Logic
by hyperdude
Summary: Ryoma operates on his own principle of logic. It's blunt, stark and honest, but never meant to be harsh. It's easy to confess. Pillar Pair, Perfect Pair, Thrill Pair, eventual TezuFujiRyo
1. Practical

Logic

_**Standard Disclaimers Apply.**_

A/N: Giving another smack at fandom. I really have no idea what the hell I'm doing. If anyone knows my style, this may never get finished, and it may get deleted at anytime. I suppose this can stand on its own, but I have been planning to expand it. Until then, enjoy!

* * *

_Practical_

Echizen has always been honest, in that blunt, brutal way of his.

It's really all in the logic. Why fiddle around, and waste time when you can say things straight out? Echizen primarily operates on this principle, except when his emotions get the better of him.

Sometimes his senpai come to him because of this—when they cannot bear to let themselves see what is there, when they cannot see what is there—they come to Echizen. And just like every time before, Echizen will give it to them, plain, without dressings—just the stark, honest truth as he sees it.

So when he finally figures out how he feels about his Buchou, it only takes him half a Saturday afternoon to decide to confess.

Realization does not come with intense gazes across the tennis courts, or even a tennis match, it comes suddenly when he's sprawled out on his bed on a hot and lazy afternoon, when it is too troublesome and tiring to get up and do something useful. He is bored, and he thinks that if only every day were like his matches with Buchou—hard, fast, thrilling, the kind of feeling that rushes warmth through his body, the kind that makes his fingers tingle and his feet shift weight from one leg to the other in anticipation—life would be much more worthwhile.

So he thinks about Buchou; he hasn't much else to do, after all. And he thinks about the serious eyes, the half-smiles, and the invisible, but reassuringly present hand that is always at the small of his back, as if saying, _'Don't worry, I'll always catch you.'_ Then a whisper curls about his mind. _Don't be careless._ Soft and hard, gentle but firm, Buchou is his pillar, and he feels that he has always known that on some level. He is always there, supporting and encouraging him to go to new heights, and soar as high as he can. He wonders if he'll be able to be Buchou's pillar one day.

_Not one day, __**now**_, his mind complains, and it hits him all at once.

So, he marches up to the net on a Saturday evening, tennis racquet in his hand. He is sweating, and his opponent is too. His heart is beating fast, and he feels a new kind of exhilaration. He offers a hand, and his opponent takes it.

"I like you Buchou," he says blandly. His expression doesn't change and his gaze is steady, along with his handshake. He squeezes the hand gently with calloused fingers, and holds on after the handshake is over.

"I like you, Buchou," he says again, just to prove his point. They are still holding hands.

"Will you go out with me?"

Blunt, stark, and honest, but never harsh.

It's only logic.


	2. The Yes No Complex

Logic

**Standard Disclaimers Apply.**

A/N: Okay, so I looked up some stuff. Currently, the timeline is during August, so the weather would be on and off really hot, and there should still be some rain. I'm not sure how that works, because I live in California. Also, right now is the summer vacation, so Ryoma and the others have no school. Also, Nationals are over already (accordingly, Nationals are supposed to end on 8/20 or 8/23), to make things easier. Summer holidays are supposed to be in early August to mark the end of the semester, but I'm changing it a little. According to the timelines I've seen, tennis starts straight out from the beginning of school in April and ends with the Nationals in late August.

This has mostly a focus in emotion, because I would have no idea how to stage tennis matches. I hope Tezuka isn't too OOC. And uh, lots of weird POV switches. I think some of you will probably think Echizen is being too intense about this when he just found out he had a crush on Tezuka, but this has been something that has been building up for quite a while, and it's just hit him all at once, so it's very intense for him at the moment.

Thanks so much to **Apple Snapple **for being a beta and someone to bounce ideas off of.

With that said, those few who have reviewed, thanks so much for your encouragement! What would I do without you? So please, go on, and I hope you enjoy!

* * *

_The Yes-No Complex_

Tezuka's first instinct is to say no.

They are captain and team member, he wants to say, you are only twelve and I am only fifteen. He is uncertain, because this is Echizen, and even in grasping his hand, he still does not understand him.

In his mind, he says, _This is improper_, and in his mind, he whispers, _What about Fuji?_

Echizen, in front of him, says nothing and merely looks at him with those tawny golden eyes, solid and unmoving. His stance says that he'll be here whether Tezuka wants him to be or not, and he can wait there as long as he needs to to receive an answer.

He remembers that Fuji would be one of the few to talk to him with ease, that perpetual smile and how sometimes he could feel so at ease with the prodigy by his side. He remembered quiet afternoons spent in deliberating study, lunchtimes filled with random, strange bursts of conversation, and the grueling tennis practices that have accompanied them for all three years. He remembers walking up to him in the middle of second year, solemn and serious, and saying, "Fuji, I like you."

And Fuji turned around, auburn hair swishing and still smiling that easy smile and said back with his typical friendliness, "I like you too, Tezuka," with a little more warmth in his voice, and maybe a little more emphasis, but that was before he turned back around almost dismissively. Tezuka remembers the feeling of rejection that stung sharply, quickly, like a syringe needle. It still comes back sometimes, when he sees Fuji wearing that constant, saccharine smile and talking to girls. He knows he should get over it, but he can't help it, because being with Fuji is just so easy.

But Fuji is not here right now. Echizen is here right now, and Tezuka know that he deserves an answer. Echizen has let his grip slacken, and his hand slides away, but those eyes are staring at him, unfathomable, indecipherable. Tezuka lets out a small exhalation and closes his eyes, thoughts flying thick and fast.

Echizen, he admits, cannot be just a kouhai, because he is not just a kouhai. He is someone that Tezuka can relate to on that high plane of tennis that others really cannot understand, something that Fuji cannot do. His is a comforting presence, warm and cool all at once, apathetic expression and laid-back personality, but a dense ball of passion balanced within a small body. Echizen is full of contradiction, and having the petite all-rounder at his back is a comforting thing. There is always an easy mood of tiny bits of barely-there conversation dispersed with long silences that are only broken by the solid _thock_ of tennis balls on court ground.

Tezuka thinks of what it would be like to have that feeling all the time, that feeling of _take it as it is, take it as it comes_ that comes ingrained in an Echizen's personality.

But he is still a kouhai. A freshman.

A boy.

_What about Fuji?_

"Echizen, you're only twelve."

"So? You're only fifteen."

"You're twelve."

"Obviously. I'm twelve. You're fifteen. It's only three years."

"….It's not right."

"Why? Because we're both male?"

Here, Tezuka hesitates. Having liked Fuji for quite a while, he has already gone through his denial process and knows that he is in fact, gay. But he's not sure how to explain his hesitancy, or his refusal. Stuck, he tightens his jaw, and his hands unconsciously ball into fists.

"…..It's Fuji-senpai, isn't it?"

_How did Echizen know about Fuji?_

Echizen glares at him balefully, crossing his arms across his chest. "It is, isn't it." Tezuka doesn't reply. "It fits. You're always looking at him during practice. He's the only one who ever touches you. The two of you are practically joined at the hip, and you guys aren't even in the same class."

"……Echizen…."

"You like him. Did he reject you? Or did you just not say anything?" There's no other reason. Fuji-senpai never looks back at Buchou, never stares at him the same way; he touches him the same way he touches Kikumaru. Echizen doesn't even really know why he feels so upset. He's only known about his crush on Buchou for a few hours so it really shouldn't bother him so much that Buchou likes Fuj-senpai….except that it does.

Tezuka can say nothing, because Echizen is only speaking the truth.

Echizen sighs, taking off his cap, and running a hand through his hair in exasperation. He feels a little guilty for rubbing salt in open wounds, but he needs to know.

"Buchou, I like you. I want to be your boyfriend," he says again, bluntly.

"No, Echizen." There's no strength behind those words. The voice is empty, and Echizen knows _who_ his Buchou is thinking about, and suddenly he is angry. This is about him and Buchou. Not Fuji-senpai. No, this has _nothing_ to do with Fuji.

But Tezuka is still thinking. _What do I say? What do I do?_

_Fuji…._

_What about __Fuji?_

"I won't take that for an answer, _Buchou_," Echizen says, voice shaking, but strong, and he glares, golden eyes bright and burning. "Say it again. Say it." Echizen grabs Tezuka's wrist roughly, yanking him down to his eye level. Echizen's eyes are burning him. "_Say it!"_ Echizen's actually shouting. Tezuka's never heard Echizen like this before. "Say that you don't want me because you're thinking of me, and not about Fuji-senpai! Right now!_**SAY IT!**__"_

Tezuka, he can't say anything. He can't even make himself move. He wants to walk away, but he doesn't know how to. He keeps hearing Fuji's voice in his head.

'_I like you too, Tezuka.'_

And slowly, another voice comes in.

'_I like you, Buchou. I want to be your boyfriend.'_

"I'm not Fuji-senpai!" Echizen shouts in his face. He's upset, eyebrows drawn together, and his grip is tight. "So pay attention to me! _I'm_ the one who's here right now, _I'm _the one you should be thinking of right now, so stop mooning over Fuji-senpai for one second, and _**give me a goddamn answer!**_"

It's the most emotion that Echizen has ever shown. Echizen wants to know, needs to know. He needs the answer straight from Buchou. Buchou should be thinking about him, thinking about whether he wants him or not, not because Fuji is there or not there, but because he's interested, or disinterested. Echizen knows on an intrinsic level that there's no way he can compete with Fuji-senpai, and that eventually, he'll have to let go. But right now is his turn, and right now is the only time that he can say it, when he has just realized his feelings, when he is still strong enough to say so.

He needs Buchou to really think, to really look at him. He needs to Buchou to see inside himself and find out whether or not he actually likes Echizen, and not think about how Fuji would react.

_Say yes. Say yes. Just for now, say yes._

The feelings don't feel as fresh and new as they should be, in fact, he is quite surprised at his reaction to finding that he likes his tennis club captain. There's no real phase of denial or fear, or the almost girly excitement and giddiness that seemed to be the kind of reaction people always had in romance novels. There's just a feeling of taking in a breath of fresh air and letting it out in a nice, long exhalation, like an internal _Oh, so that's what it was. _Otherwise, he doesn't really feel anything at all except for the warmth that seems to like to flush into his chest and the nameless thing welling up in him that makes him want to smile uncharacteristically. This doesn't feel like anything new; it feels like it's been there all along.

"Buchou…." And his eyes are almost pleading. "_Buchou_."

So Tezuka thinks, and thinks about Echizen.

_What __**about**__ Fuji? _

His back is beginning to hurt, having been hunched over for quite a while, but he keeps thinking. He feels like he's never thought about something this hard in his life. Something about this is important. There is no fear of rejection here….except for his own.

He feels puzzled. There's no reason for him to be scared; he is the one being propositioned this time around. If he says yes, he'll have a boyfriend; if he says no...

If he says no, his relationship with Echizen will probably never be the same again.

_And what about Fuji?_

If he said yes, how would Fuji react? How would the team react? Echizen is twelve. He is fifteen. They are both male. _But Fuji is a male too—_

_**Echizen is not Fuji.**_

And without realizing it, his mouth moves.

"**No."**

Echizen's eyes widen, and his hand slips away.

_Say yes. _

"_**No." **_

_I can't compete with him._


	3. Be Kind, Rewind

Logic

**Standard Disclaimers Apply.**

A/N: I think Echizen has the potential to be extremely emotional. I hope last chapter did enough of a good job to convince you guys on why Echizen feels so passionate about Tezuka, when he only figured out his feelings a few hours ago. Tezuka is awfully hard to write too, I always have to go back and go, 'Does this sound unemotional enough?' Ryoma is a lot easier, but I make him talk a lot. He says a lot with really few words, doesn't he? Isn't that supposed to be really hard to do?

Truthfully, I really doubt domesticity is something in the Echizen gene, but I like domestic!Ryoma. So yeah, OOC for the win. :P And sorry for bad chapter titles…? Also,from here on, it's gonna be on the fly. This fic doesn't have as much of a structure anymore (it didn't have much of one in the first place), chapter two knocked it all off. Ehehe…

Don't feel all that satisfied with this chapter, and I'm not sure how to proceed from this point, so updates will probably be really slow, but I really want to keep this going, so please stick with me here.

Hope you enjoy this next chapter anyway! Questions, comments? Email me, PM me, or leave a review! Tell me how I'm doing. Feedback on how realistic the situations seem will also help a lot—reactions or things that you guys, as the readers, have either seen or experienced.

* * *

_Be Kind, Rewind_

When Ryoma gets home, he feels hollow. This is foreign, this blackness spreading from his chest to his fingers and toes like a pool of black ink, seeping into every nook and cranny of him, and he slides open the door with a listless, "I'm home."

His father grunts, waving a lax hand in greeting before giggling and turning back to his porn magazine, and he half expects Ryoma to start berating him about his perverted habits, but he's kind of surprised when instead, Ryoma drags himself and his tennis bag up the stairs with a quiet remark of where he's going.

"Oi, seishounen…."

"I'm going to take a bath."

It's been a long time since Ryoma has been _this_ quiet. Something is wrong.

Nanjiroh's brow furrows, and he frowns. As a father, he may not be the best one, but he does care. But emotions are something he cannot deal with. Pride, motivation, 'manly' feelings, he can do just fine—he uses tennis to speak, and Ryoma uses tennis to reply in kind, and they can communicate in perfectly understandable ways. But the more 'girly' emotions? Those are in Rinko's department. He sighs. There is nothing he can do until his wife gets home. Picking up his porno, he puts it back into its hiding place, in the hole he has made in one of his old dictionaries by cutting a large rectangle into numerous pages, leaving behind the appearance of a whole book, but upon opening, revealing a treasure chest. It's a classic gesture in the black and white detectives, except these treasure-books typically have guns in them instead of porn.

Nanjiroh picks up the newspaper instead.

* * *

Ryoma knows why he was rejected. He knew ever since the sudden epiphany, the sudden realization: _Buchou likes Fuji-senpai._

He remembers the sudden black hole forming in his chest, the leaden weight on his tongue. He remembers yelling _I actually yelled at Buchou_ and hoping praying _say yes yes yesyesyes_

"_**No."**_

And he remembers that feeling, that feeling of resigned acceptance that inner _I knew it, it was never me_ because Buchou liked Fuji-senpai. It was rather obvious in his eyes, now that he thought about it, for all the reasons that he had told Buchou, and more. Standing by themselves, together during matches, sitting by each other in Kawamura's, exchanging comments, critiques, and tips on tennis, on the same bench.

Ryoma doesn't even know if Fuji-senpai likes Buchou back, but he has the feeling that even if it hasn't yet been said, it is almost certain that he does. Even if he doesn't know it, Fuji-senpai likes Buchou back. There is no room for him. He is just another regular, just another teammate. A pillar in the making maybe, but still, just another kouhai.

He really does need that nice, _relaxing_ bath. Usually he relaxes by venting himself on tennis, but this time, tennis will only make it worse. He doesn't feel very into it right now.

Ryoma grabs clothes from the closet, a loose pair of cotton sweat pants and a plain, baggy, white T-shirt. Comfort is what he needs most, right now. Bypassing the toilet and sink, opening the second door and ducking into the shower room, he turns the tab of the bath tub, turning the water just this side of hot, which is what he likes. Turning on the showerhead beside the tub, he shudders as the cold water rinses some of the grime from his skin, and he deals with the rest as he begins to wash, rubbing soap bubbles out on his hands and scrubbing himself from head to toe. Today is a shampoo day too; his hair is soon masked by a layer of white, frothy bubbles. As he does his bathing routine, he wonders what Tezuka _doesn't_ like about him. Grey water and white soap suds wash down the drain planted in the middle of the tiled bathroom.

Maybe his body is part of it. He's short, lithe, and lean. Ryoma runs his hands down his thighs and calves as he thinks, washing himself. His face has always been a little young, his eyes are still rather large. His voice hasn't changed yet, but Ryoma has a grudging suspicion that even with puberty, his voice won't get much deeper, and his body won't get much taller. Picking up the small wooden tub, he fills it with water, and dumps it on his head, before turning the shower head on for the final body rinse and second shampooing.

He settles on attitude. It's always been his attitude. Arrogant, bratty, spoiled, cocky, disrespectful, impertinent, snobby. A brat, a bastard, a bitch, a fucker, a boy too big for his britches. They've all been used to describe him at one time or another, and he knows that everyone, even the people on his own team, has wanted to punch him at least once. He has the remarkable ability to be able to piss off any man that he comes across, and while it usually makes for interesting tennis matches, it makes for bad social skills.

As he rinses the shampoo out of his hair for the last time, and slips into the soothing hot waters of his bathtub, Ryoma begins to pick out everything bad about himself. And it frustrates him, this self-doubt. This is what the arrogance is for, this is what the brattiness is for, so that he can _stop thinking about things like this_. He hates doubting himself, hates the feeling of the world bearing down on him and making him so helpless and useless that he feels like he's being sucked in a black hole of depression. He remembers that it used to happen a lot when he was younger, being put down by both Nanjiroh and his (now recovered) adopted brother Ryoga for his a little more than abysmal tennis skills.

He scowls again, and dunks his head into the hot water, and tells himself firmly to relax.

When he gets back to his room he is a little more relaxed. At least his formerly sore muscles feel a lot more malleable and his limbs don't feel so stiff anymore. It doesn't really make him feel any less like old clothes left out on the street though, so he digs out his music player, plugs it in, and lays down on his bed and whiles away the time listening to music and staring up at the ceiling meaninglessly with Karupin sleeping on his stomach.

He hears the faint slamming of a door and the murmur of voices later. His mother is home. He turns the music off, and listens to her footsteps as she walks around the house downstairs. He tracks the sounds as the move around, coming closer and becoming louder as they approach his door. His mother sticks her head through the door moments later, after knocking lightly.

She's still wearing the clothes she wore to work this morning. The only difference is in her slightly mussed hairdo. She sits down on his bed beside him and begins to stroke his hair.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks. She's not being obnoxious about it, and the question comes across as rather unobtrusive, but he gives her a stare that clearly conveys his answer.

"Well, we can't have you sitting around all day. Come on, let's go downstairs and make dinner with Nanako."

Cooking is another relaxing mechanism, aside from tennis. It came from loud tantrums as a toddler, and gaining appeasement with the creation of chocolate chip cookies with his mother. Since then, cooking has always been associated with comfort, not just with the ability to throw himself into repetitive motions to concentrate on, or the satisfaction that comes with making a meal and having it taste good, but also as relief from Nanjiroh's horrendous domestic skills when both his mother and Nanako are away, and the Echizen household's men are left to fend for themselves.

So he gives himself to the peeling of water chestnuts and pretends that the shade of brown that colors the peel is not the same shade of brown as his Buchou's hair.

* * *

Tezuka automatically goes through the motions of his typical home routines, his mind still whirling in confusion, mortification and embarrassment, and it's only when he's finished eating and said his '_Gochisousama_'s and back in his room that he takes the time to actually absorb what happened this afternoon.

"_I like you Buchou. I want to be your boyfriend."_

He takes off his glasses, placing them on the bedside table and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to ignore the heat coming off his cheeks. He's a little upset too, not at Echizen, but at himself. In the end, he hadn't thought of Echizen at all.

This obsession with Fuji really needs to stop. Thinking of Fuji hasn't just interrupted his thought processes and normal thinking patterns, but it has now also impeded on his logical thinking, and thinking without proper rationale is something that Tezuka simply will not allow. He's ashamed at his curt answer to Echizen's confession, and no matter how hard he tries he can't erase from his mind the face that Echizen showed him this afternoon.

Wide golden-brown eyes, and a warm hand slipping out of his own, but what he feels was the most upsetting was the way Echizen pressed his lips together, schooled his expressive eyebrows back down into their typical positions, and smirked shakily, before saying, _I thought that was what you were going to say_, and realizing that Echizen meant every word.

Tezuka frowns. Tezuka's regret and shame lies in the thought behind his rejection. Even if the intent was to reject in the first place, the thought behind his refusal was wrong. In that aspect, his rejection was rude and disrespectful. Echizen, even as annoying as he can be at times, does not deserve that sort of lack of consideration in such an important decision. Echizen has always been honest in that strange way of his—even the lies that he tells are usually so blatantly obvious that everyone knows he's not going to tell the truth, which is also, in a way, a kind of honesty. Echizen hides the truth, but he doesn't fake his way through to hide it.

Love confessions are serious things. Throughout his middle school years Tezuka has born witness to several effects of rejection and even been the cause of some of those effects. There is crying, sobbing, not eating for a few days, there is depression, there is petty acts of jealousy, things straight out of a typical teen soap opera. Echizen doesn't really seem the type, but then again, he doesn't seem the type to really do anything unless it's to his own benefit.

There has been no sign of an impending confession, nor has there been any indication of deeper feeling. Granted, Tezuka has always felt some sort of bond with his protégé, the fact that he is able to communicate with the first year through tennis is proof of that (though Echizen's long years of tennis experience might also have something to do with it). The whole team has come a long way since the start of school three months ago, in talent, ambition, drive and relationships, his and Echizen's included. He hopes his chosen successor has absorbed at least of a few of the lessons that Seigaku's tennis team has taught him, and has changed a little, for the better.

The return to school will be most awkward, Tezuka thinks. Fuji and Echizen, together, in the same club, in the same school, in the same place, at the same time. His two biggest problems, combined. It's an obvious headache in the works. Already he feels the beginnings of a twinge at his temples. He's not ready to deal with them yet; he doesn't want to deal with them yet. But denial isn't good for anyone, so he thinks to himself, _tomorrow, I'll think about it tomorrow_ and opens his closet, going to the bathroom to prepare for bed.

Yet as the warmth of the shower spray soothes the day's pains away, his mind refuses to stop working. It is definitely not good for him to be thinking about Fuji in the shower, he's sure that he's turning blue _down there_ because he refuses to lose control and jack off like any other normal fifteen year old boy. Tezuka muses on the probability of his being a closet masochist as he recites the German version of the alphabet in order to clear his head.

_Ah, Beh, Tseh, Deh, E……_

_**I like you Buchou. I want to be your boyfriend.**_

………_chizen. He looked really upset. I hope Monday won't be too bad. I wonder if it will affect his tennis. If it does I will need to talk to Inui about him. But then will I have to tell Inui that Echizen told me that he liked me? How embarrassing. Of all people, I didn't think that Echizen would like me. It was really sudden. And Fuji aside, why would I say no? Is Echizen really that bad? I think most people would say so but….._

………_.wasn't I supposed to be thinking about this tomorrow?_

Tezuka promptly switched his nice, warm shower to a cold one.


	4. We Real Cool

Logic

**Standard Disclaimers Apply.**

A/N: Uwaaaah! Chapter Four already! Thanks for sticking with me this far! I hope this chapter will be as much fun for as you as the first few were. This chapter title was inspired by a poem by Gwendolyn Brooks; it's probably pretty well known. Look for it on the Internet, you can be sure to find it there. Feedback surprised me. It seemed like a flood, even though it was just two people. XD

This chapter is supposed to deal with part of the aftermath but I really don't know how these two blockheads (Tezuka and Ryoma) would react in this situation. O o;;; More questions for the future, I suppose.

Interesting how Ryoma is really the only character in the whole series that is commonly referred to by his first name. Maybe because he's American, or because he's the 'main' character….? But a lot of people don't like him at all, so…I dunno.

I hope everyone gets the point I was trying to reach in this chapter with the long confusing rant on how the Pinnacle changed Ryoma's view on tennis, and the way he views his opponents. XD It's sort of hard to write. Admittedly, this present tense third person view kind of writing drives me absolutely nuts and drives me up a wall in confusion, but I feel that that sort of writing fits the atmosphere of the fic better. I also think it's a little mechanical. If any of you want me to switch to the kind of the third person writing that everybody else uses, drop me a line. I want to know what you think on this writing style.

Anyways, you know the drill. Questions, comments, or suggestions on anything? Email, PM and review. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well!

_We Real Cool_

Monday morning practice descends like a cloud on a mountain. Students are still dreamy and are still adjusting to the renewed grinding of the cogs that are school life. Many of the non-regular tennis club members lag behind in the laps assigned this morning while the regulars rush ahead, fueled by the persuasion of Inui Juice. Ryoma indulges himself on this morning and doesn't bother pulling his usual trick with the assistance of his Kawamura-senpai, and instead concentrates on every footfall. It's surprisingly easy, in this way, to stop glancing at his Buchou every fifteen seconds.

Even though he's already confessed and had a day to get over it, seeing his Buchou again in school doesn't seem to be any easier. In fact, it gets harder. Now that Echizen has noticed his feelings, he has also begun to notice his Buchou. The way sweat trails a fine line down Buchou's jaw as he hits balls with Inui, and the hair that falls back from his face as he takes a gulp of water entrances him, and he isn't even sure whether or not his staring is too blatant, but he hopes that nobody notices. Ryoma's own tennis play actually gets more intense as he flings himself into one of the only things in his life that has ever meant something to him, and he has never before appreciated the release and the joy that tennis gives him as much as he has on this day.

Since awakening the Pinnacle of Perfection, tennis has become something more. Ryoma finds himself even more intrigued with the sport than before. It's not just about beating his father or Buchou anymore, it's the way the ball hits the floor with just the right amount of spin, the way the tennis ball bounces off his racket and rockets forward, and it's also the way his opponent responds. Logically he realizes that maybe he should be targeting Fuji-senpai now, because as Ryuuzaki-sensei mentioned in Fuji-senpai's match with Kirihara Akaya of Rikkaidai, Fuji-senpai has in fact already surpassed Buchou. But if it's one thing that the Pinnacle has taught him, it's that the opponent makes the game.

Tennis is a game that relies on retaliation, as is any other team sport. Your opponent is your fellow artist, but the way he responds every time will be different. He always has the choice to evolve, to further himself, and there is a level of unpredictability to tennis matches as the players improve in bursts and challenge each other again. However, physical brilliance on its own cannot make a masterful game. Tennis is an art and like all other arts, tennis needs emotion. A brilliant tennis game can only exist when riding on the emotions of its artists, the drive, the ambition, the willingness to put a step forward, and maybe even out-stride oneself.

Why do they play tennis? Why do they succeed? What makes them do what they do? Tennis is all about that. It's part of the reason why the match between the Monkey King and Buchou is still considered such a hallmark match—Tezuka going forward for the sake of his team, riding all his hopes of going to the Nationals with each stroke of an swollen arm, and the Monkey King his arrogant self, wanting to best the best, to move forward, ever on up. The drive, the purpose is there, the moves are there, and the players are there. It is only a question of whether or not one can elevate oneself to that level.

A person with that potential cannot get any further than just, 'a great tennis match.' Their opponent might be greater, and in that case the opponent is just another stepping stone. The real opponent is one who will match you stroke for stroke, feeling for feeling, and he will be the one you will have a brilliant match with.

That's why Ryoma no longer considers Fuji-senpai a suitable substitute. Fuji-senpai has begun to understand, briefly, with the match with Shiraishi, but Fuji-senpai is still not in the right mindset. Fuji-senpai will not treat the challenge seriously; he will play on the court and only get serious when he decides that he needs to. But Buchou is the one who opened the way; there would have been no Pinnacle of Perfection had he never come to Seigaku. Buchou is one who understands, one who he can play any game with, a light rally, a serious match, a light hearted warm-up. It's because the feelings between them are always there, which makes every match with Buchou something for Ryoma to look forward to.

Or so he thought. He's not too sure of that anymore.

--/

Tezuka is nervous. He doesn't show it, doesn't mention anything, and doesn't think that Inui's noticed, but he still feels pretty paranoid about other people knowing. Every so often he can feel Echizen's stare boring into him and he's pretty sure he'll collapse from nerves and paranoia if he has to deal with this for the whole month, because every time he turns around, Echizen isn't looking at him at all.

Knowing that he has become Echizen's object of affection really makes him feel like what a teenage girl might feel in the view of school society. He feels ridiculously self-conscious even though he knows that none of his teammates will judge him on how he looks and no matter what he will always be their captain. But Echizen has always been different. Even in the beginning, especially after that match on the Haruno University clay courts, Echizen has held him in the highest regard, using him as a benchmark to move ever further, and seeing him as a person deserving of respect and admiration. That doesn't seem to have changed, even with Fuji's steady advancement.

He wonders what Echizen sees in him. He's nothing special aside from his tennis, but Echizen wouldn't like him just because of his tennis, would he? Exemplary grades are nothing to be impressed about; this is Japan and every other school has its own straight A student council president. Tezuka doesn't see anything particular about himself that would make him stand out to Echizen…or to Fuji for that matter.

Once again he only has Echizen to thank for throwing him for a loop. He hasn't thought about his feelings toward Fuji in almost half a year, and they'd only manifested themselves in a dull, throbbing ache that would bother him once in a while. But now, Fuji is on the mind all day, all night, every hour, every second. He doesn't like it at all, this unpredictable feeling. It's something he can't control and it's something that he wishes would just go away. He doesn't have to deal with this, he shouldn't have to, and he doesn't want to. But if he doesn't think of Fuji, he starts to think of Echizen and there is no lesser of the two evils because they're both equally annoying and bothersome and the thought of one of them makes his heart race and the thought of the other makes his head throb and makes him sweat.

It is strange how he has always equated Echizen, in a way, with the future. _Pillar, hashira, die Säule_ support and foundation and Echizen, steadying the boat and propelling them forward with each steady stroke of his racket. Never once has the freshman complained about Tezuka's expectations of him, merely taking on the burden and letting it sit comfortably on his shoulders. Tezuka is proud of him, thankful to him, and at the same time, he feels a little indebted to him.

And what is so bad about Echizen? What is there for him to say no to? He's not bad looking, and there is only a three year gap, regardless of Tezuka's weak argument against Echizen yesterday. They're both underage anyway, so it doesn't make much of a difference. Though Echizen's attitude is a little hard to bear at times, he really isn't all that bad. Even walking just side by side, the silences shared between him and Echizen have never been uncomfortable, rather it is the kind of atmosphere that is produced when one walks into a café, only to come upon an old friend and strike up conversation. Tezuka doesn't hate him or dislike him, but on the other hand Tezuka can't use the classic 'we're only friends' excuse, because really, they aren't actually friends.

Somehow the thought is sobering. For a mentor and a pupil they are both incredibly distant from each other, and Echizen has raised an ocean between himself and all the other people in the world. It must be horribly lonely to be on that gray rock in the middle of the sea all by himself. And Tezuka thinks that it's a shame; if they can connect so well in tennis, there's no reason why they shouldn't be able to connect in real life too. There is the potential for friendship there, and really he and Echizen get along rather well for two quiet, serious individuals. It wouldn't be a bad experience, as Tezuka doesn't have any friends other than Oishi, and on some part Inui and Fuji…..but Fuji doesn't really count as a friend.

It's frustrating. He thinks he knows himself, but then the world just has to flip upside-down, and it turns out that he doesn't know anything at all.

--/

It's so cute.

It has been a month since the end of summer vacation. The first week, he'd dismissed what had been going on, the second week he started to notice a little, the third week he'd actually begun to observe and the fourth week, he just began watch with quite a lot of amusement.

In the beginning, in the first week, Fuji dismisses it. It's trivial; it's probably just coincidence.

In the second week, he notices, little flashes, little peek-a-boos, hidden quickly in shy fervor and coy nervousness. The third week, Fuji begins to observe and analyze, and in the fourth week, he just sits back and enjoys the product of his labor.

It has been a month since the end of summer vacation, but Echizen Ryoma in love is still one of the cutest things that Fuji Syuusuke has ever seen.

He can't help but stifle a giggle as he catches another one of Echizen's long, drawn out stares at Tezuka, and smiles a little wider when Echizen backs off to a corner, slaps himself lightly in blushing cheeks and tries to hide near the bleachers. Tezuka and Echizen have always been at the center of what Fuji considers to be one of the more interesting core relationships present in the Seigaku team, and he thinks rather fondly that their little Echizen is getting all grown up.

Of course, he is exaggerating. Echizen is still only twelve, and will be for quite some time. None of the Seigaku members actually know when his birthday is—Echizen never speaks a single word about his special day and even Inui has no idea. It is easy to forget, since Echizen is always so serious.

They will look good together; Fuji knows this. One tall, broad-shouldered and made of smooth lines of lean muscle and moderately pale skin, dark brown hair and lighter chocolate eyes, and another small and petite, hidden power and strength coiled beneath tan skin in the sunlight, a quiet nighttime expression of feeling resting peacefully under paler colors in the absence of any light at all.

A quiet couple. Quiet, but content, living easy days, happy nights, a good, satisfying life.

Tezuka needs something to call his own. He has been giving away parts of himself for too long, and Fuji is afraid that one day all that will be left is a skeleton. Sometimes Echizen gives something back, gives a little drive by playing a match, exchanges a little of his company for a little of his Buchou's time when they walk to the train station together, offers up Tezuka's dream of winning National's on the golden platter in the most beautiful turnover Fuji has ever seen, and gives his medal to Tezuka afterward because he thinks it only natural to do so.

"_It all started with you, Buchou. So you should have this…it's always been yours anyway, hasn't it?" _

A concealed gratitude hanging on a golden medallion, two smooth, glinting badges of honor and pride and the glee of having accomplished a long-time dream. Two names. _Moving ever forward, _Tezuka Kunimitsu.

He still remembers what Tezuka had told him spontaneously, in the hallway, during second year.

"_Fuji, I like you."_

Fuji remembers barely able to respond in his giddiness, passing back a quick, "I like you too," before spinning around and trying to squash down the large, uncharacteristic grin that had mysteriously begun to creep up the sides of his face.

Fuji still likes Tezuka. Tezuka is an invaluable friend, and Fuji wants the best for him.

_It's love._

The flash of gold from under a cap brim, and the warmth that comes from blushing cheeks tells Fuji that it won't be too hard to find a willing victim.


	5. Battlefield

Logic

**Standard Disclaimers Apply.**

A/N: As it is, I have no idea what people think of this fic, so I'm gonna put out a reviewer prompt. What do you think Ryoma's personality is like? I mean, **Apple Snapple** and I have been receiving a lot of reviews in _Cerebello Nervosa _saying that they think whatever has been going on in his personality is interesting, and that they haven't seen that portrayal of Ryoma before. There's been a lot of cultureshock!Ryoma lately, which I think is super interesting. If it was your choice, what would you choose his character to be like?

Thanks to **Apple Snapple **for beta-ing for me thus far!

_Battlefield_

It's just them in the locker room. Everyone has already left and it is up to Tezuka to close up the club room for the day, and Echizen is there, having taken his sweet time picking up balls with the other freshmen. The room is silent except the for the rush and splash of falling shower water, and Echizen takes deep steady breaths, leans his hands and forehead on the tiled shower wall, and begs his body to stop reacting and his mind to stop fantasizing. It's a fruitless effort, he soon finds, and he gives up, switching the shower off.

His footsteps ring off clubroom walls and his breath is loud in his ears, and he knows that Buchou is somewhere in this room, and it is only them, in the clubroom, together.

Tezuka knows it too, that this is a closeness that they should not be sharing, and there is a tension in the air. From Tezuka comes a tension from uneasiness and nervousness, from Ryoma, a different kind of tension altogether. It is hard to breathe, and the clubroom suddenly feels all too small. Tezuka tugs at the collar that surrounds his neck; it seems to clench and spasm around his flesh. He steadies himself; this is necessary, this is courtesy, this is his fault, and he will take responsibility.

He taps Echizen on the shoulder.

"Buchou," Echizen says, turning to look over his shoulder with one bright, golden eye. His skin is damp, and the smell of shampoo rises from shower-fresh tangled, tousled wet hair. He slips on his shirt, wash-worn cotton sliding on skin, and there is the rustle of fabric as he puts on his underwear underneath the towel wrapped about his waist, and Tezuka is thinking too hard to remember to look away.

It's still so hard to believe that Echizen likes him and if Echizen hadn't said it straight up and blunt like that, Tezuka would've never believed him. Even now, looking at Echizen's face, without a hint of blush or hormone-induced bluster, a sign of softness or even lust, it is difficult to keep confidence in Echizen's sincerity. Love is not supposed to be about a boy confessing to another boy on a tennis court on a Saturday afternoon without having given any hint of liking him. Love is not supposed to be bitter, it's supposed to be sweet and sugary, liberally sprinkled with doses of happiness, rainbows and butterflies, and a large dollop of over-reactive drama.

At least, it's what the books say. But the drama part seems to be right.

Echizen's knuckles are white, small hands clenched in tight fists, tensing, releasing, and he fiddles with his wristband and cap, fingers flitting everywhere in the nervous motion of a butterfly. He says nothing else, his clothed back facing Tezuka's vision and Tezuka can't see his face, and it somehow reminds him of the back in the hallway, a sickening sweet smile. Echizen is taking out his things; the dial of the lock clicks and makes quiet grounding noises, the scrape, clash and clang of metal harsh against the full-throated silence that echoes around the room.

"I'm sorry."

Echizen doesn't look up at him, doesn't respond. He opens his mouth after a moment's pause.

"It's okay."

And suddenly Tezuka feels like he's the one who needs to be comforted. Echizen steps away, closes his locker door with a resounding bang, and sweeps out of the clubroom without ever looking back. Tezuka can't do anything but fall dumbly onto the nearest locker room bench, staring in stupor at the path Echizen had taken in walking away from him. His hands feel strangely empty, but his palms are tingling, and he rubs them together absently. Something has been lost, he can feel it, but he can't do anything more than lock up the club room for the night, and walk home. All he keeps seeing that smirk, that cold back, and those brilliant golden eyes and he feels so, so cold.

---/

Fuji nudges Echizen in the middle of practice as he has done for the previous few days. Ryoma doesn't know what all the twitching and jabbing and elbow-poking is about and he's not sure he wants to. He lets out a small grunt of disapproval, inching away from his overly touchy-feely senpai. As if he doesn't have enough of those already, Fuji moves with him, and then pokes him the shoulder again.

"Fuji-senpai…"

"Echizen!" His senpai looks down at him and smiles, innocently. But anyone who knows Fuji knows better than that. He leans down, putting his mouth near Echizen's ear and cupping a hand around the shell and lobe of the ear, whispering.

"You like Tezuka, don't you?"

Echizen's eyes move to the corners of their sockets, and Fuji is faced with wary gold. The freshman takes a quick glance at what everybody else is doing. He doesn't want the extra attention; if he is obvious enough that Fuji-senpai has caught on, he might be misfortunate enough that Fuji-senpai will tell everyone else and make his life hell.

"It's none of your business." Fuji laughs softly, placing a hand on his kouhai's shoulder. It's a little heavy, but it's a gentle weight, the presence exuding from the calloused palm radiating into the close-by body, a notice of familiarity, and at the same time, of reassurance.

"You do. You would look good together, you know," Fuji murmurs, eyes opening to show slivers of blue. The corners of his lips stretch and expand ever-so-slightly to a sly, conspiratorial grin, but Echizen scoffs, turning his head and brushing his senpai's hand off his shoulder indifferently and fixes him with a flat stare.

"What do you want, Fuji-senpai?"

Fuji's smile only grows a little wider. Of all people, Echizen is the most fun to talk to because unlike the others, Echizen seems rather well versed in Fuji's kind of play; he never gives an inch, trying to hoard all his secrets and feelings and treasuring his privacy like he treasures his cat. But Fuji is not willing to share his own feelings this round; he too likes his privacy, not to mention it is fun to keep everybody guessing.

"It would be interesting how things changed if you and Tezuka got together," he says idly, before looping a friendly arm around Echizen's shoulders. "Besides, you two are some of my favorite people." A sunny smile. "If you like him, I see no problem with it."

Echizen gives him a glare, and says sharply, "I'm not a toy. If you're really that bored, go stalk your brother or something, but leave me out of your games. Don't butt into my business, Fuji-senpai." He twists away sharply, heading off to the next practice game with Kikumaru, who has just finished a doubles match with Oishi against Inui and Kaidoh. But before he leaves, Fuji catches his mutter of, "It's pretty much useless anyway."

Fuji, left behind, frowns thoughtfully. It is almost like Echizen knows something about Tezuka that he doesn't, which is quite a novelty since he is one of Tezuka's best (and most invasive) friends, if Tezuka could be said to have any. But Echizen and Tezuka are two of his favorite people, and life in general would become more interesting if they got together. So he merely smiles while the wheels in his mind turn rapidly, and he thinks it's still hopelessly cute the way Echizen is trying to glare at him and stop watching Tezuka at the same time.

He gives small wave. Echizen sticks out his tongue at him, which actually only makes him look cuter, and turns back to the game.


	6. Call Uncle

Logic

**Standard Disclaimers Apply.**

A/N: Yes, you guys get a double post. I forgot I had two chapters done instead of just one. So, er, be happy? :D We're at a transition stage, I believe. I can't really remember how the timeline was in my head. Summer vacation was moved to the end of August, after Nationals, and then a month passed when Fuji was figuring things out. Realistically, Fuji probably would've gottne it a lot sooner, but I'm trying to make time move a little faster, as I'm a little impatient. So right now dhould be the beginnign of October.

_Call Uncle_

Echizen hates Fuji.

He hates him, so, so much. That stupid senpai who won't stop asking him about Buchou even though it's so damned _obvious _how they feel for each other, and since Fuji is such a (_retarded_) genius, he hasn't admitted it to himself yet. And Fuji keeps asking and asking and asking whether or not he likes Buchou and he's so sick of it because it makes him believe he can veil Fuji's eyes and take Buchou away from somebody who doesn't even deserve him. But his stupid sense of honor won't even give him that.

"_Do you like Tezuka, Echizen?"_

"_It's none of your business."_

He hasn't talked to Echizen since he apologized in the locker rooms. He hasn't thought of Echizen since he apologized in the locker rooms, except the pauses in the day where a flash of gold reminds him of those eyes and he can't forget the two cold backs that walked away from him in his life, Fuji and Echizen, Echizen and Fuji, one who likes him, and another who likes him, but not as much.

Tezuka wishes he could stop wanting and stop regretting. He doesn't want to feel guilty about Echizen anymore, and he doesn't want to feel upset about Fuji anymore. Now, he's lost Echizen, somehow or another. He never really had Echizen in the first place, but being his makeshift protégé and a part of the team, Echizen is still important to him.

Because Tezuka feels the pressure too. He is the perfect student, the perfect captain, he doesn't show emotion because he is the perfectly disciplined son and he is so tired, and doesn't really think he wants to be perfect anymore. He is the one that Echizen looks up to, that _everyone_ in the team looks up to, and he can't fail them by falling off the pedestal they've set him on. But with all this teenage drama, he's not sure he can keep it up. He hasn't needed to do this before, juggle emotional baggage and his life duties at the same time, and at the end of the day when he crawls into bed bone-dead tired and exhausted he wonders how long he'll be able to do it.

"_You do like him, don't you, Echizen?"_

"_Shut up, Fuji-senpai! Go away!"_

Echizen isn't responding to him the way he's supposed to. If anything, Fuji hasn't gotten any closer to his objective since a week ago. Echizen isn't taking the bait at all, and Fuji's not sure what he's supposed to do. He also has no idea what it is that Echizen knows that he doesn't and the curiosity is almost choking him.

The relations between him and Echizen have soured considerably. In the halls, his kouhai sweeps past him without pausing for greeting or to make eye contact, and whenever he sees Fuji coming his way, he turns around abruptly and goes in the other direction, even if it means a longer walk to his destination. During practice, Fuji is regarded with a dark scowl and a sharp glare, and there is a stony silence that he gives when Fuji tries to talk to him, never saying anything else but the most derogatory, short statements that he can give. Yet he can't stop needling Echizen, if only for the slightest chance that he will give in.

Even worse, Tezuka is moodier these days, distant. Fuji doesn't ask because Tezuka is obviously in a period of deep thought, but he's worried about what it might mean. Tezuka is so stoic and silent; if he bottles anything up Fuji will have no idea of what is going with him and how he is doing in terms of his mental health, and Fuji is very much an overprotective friend, just as he is an overprotective brother.

"Echizen," Fuji says as he walks out onto the roof of the school. Echizen looks up from his bento box and makes a small frustrated, disgusted noise and sends Fuji one of the nastiest looks that he has ever received in his life. Fuji has never seen him so antagonistic, and during the spaces between bedtime and homework he feels a little bad for annoying his kouhai so. But it's for a good cause, so that guilt quickly goes away.

"So, you do like Tezu—"

"Fuji-senpai," Echizen interrupts sharply, flicking his eyes up to the senpai crouching down in front of him, "What the hell do you want? You've been bothering me nonstop for the past two weeks for no reason; hurry up and spit whatever it is out so I can give you what you want and you can leave me in peace!" His voice never rises further than its normal volume, anger and exasperation woven tight and controlled into its tones.

Fuji opens his eyes, stares at Echizen for a moment. He didn't feel like revealing his motive before, he's not sure if he wants to do it now. But he supposes that Echizen deserves to know.

"Tezuka…he deserves to be happy. But he can't do it when he's looking after everyone else and forgetting about himself. Someone needs to look after him and care for him. And since you already like him…" Fuji shrugs, bitter gaze in his eyes before he closes the again and dons a happy smile.

"So you wanted me to take care of him. To love him," Echizen sums up, raising an eyebrow and snorting inelegantly, impolitely. He doesn't even stumble over what would be the dreaded L-word. "You want someone to care for him like he deserves, and that's why you're trying to matchmake."

Fuji nods, and though he doesn't show it, he's a little surprised at how eloquent and perceptive Echizen is being today. Or maybe he's always been like that and Fuji just hasn't noticed.

Echizen stares at him, and then rolls his eyes. "If you're the one who thought of it, you're the one who should carry it out. Since you were the one to have the sentiment in the first place, you're the best person to do whatever it is that you want to do."

"Me…go out with Tezuka?" Fuji asks, smile still in place. "But Echizen…don't you—"

"Yeah, and so what?" Echizen packs up his bentou, and stands, stretching, he walks toward the door, looking back over his shoulder, smirking. "After all, I'm not the one that Buchou likes, Fuji-senpai."

And when he leaves Fuji on the roof top to figure it out, Echizen curses himself for ruining his own chances.


	7. The BackSide

Logic

_**Standard Disclaimers Apply.**_

A/N: Thanks for all your comments and feedback! Sorry the chapters are so short. I stop whenever I feel the chapter is at its end; just a sense of completion is enough. Also, after re-reading some past chapters, I keep wondering if everyone is IC. Please leave me some feedback regarding this!

**On a slightly more somber note…**I will not name names, but recently, my friend **Apple Snapple **was being harassed by another writer because of a review I wrote in response to _another _writer's fic. While I do see how the review in question could've been taken in a negative context, I had no intentions of offending ANYONE, least of all the harasser herself. Nevertheless, this writer was, I believe, blowing things extremely out of proportion. Not only was she responding to something that I had not addressed to her, I also never gave any indication that I was referring to any specific persons in the fandom at large. Also, instead of coming to me, the target of her grievances, to talk things out, she harassed one of my friends.

"Guilty by association?" Bullshit. If anyone has a bone to pick with me, step up and PM me or whatever; I'll gladly settle it with you in a civilized (or if you wish, uncivilized) manner. To the author who bothered **Apple Snapple **(and you know who you are), if you are at all reading this message, next time you have a problem with me, come talk to me instead of taking it out on someone who is not involved.

For the readers of this story, I am sorry that you have to listen to my ranting. Please enjoy the chapter!

* * *

_The Back-Side_

If Fuji is the expert in human perception, Echizen is the expert of human emotion. Both require a bit of the other to reach that level of expertise—Fuji identifies emotions to perceive, and Echizen has to perceive to identify emotions. It's a two-way street.

But the streets go in opposite directions. Fuji identifies emotions, but he doesn't understand or investigate them. Instead he manipulates them to create a scenario that fits his desires, or the desires of the person to which the manipulation will benefit. He twists those feelings, weaving them in and out in a mangled mess that is as beautiful as it is terrifying, only enhanced by those blue blue eyes and that horrifying smile, and the glint of those white teeth and a whisper of _I got you. _

Ryoma is different, very different. With him, the spotlight is always on, and those golden eyes watching, always watching, scrutinizing every move under harsh laboratory lights, the magnifying lens of a microscope, and the tweezers that are always picking, always prodding and lifting things out of those nooks and crannies until there's nothing left to find. He'll give a smirk, the little lift in the corner of that still mouth, turn around and walk away, leaving behind the person who has been dissimilated and put back together again in the space of a second, leaving behind only a flash of gold.

Fuji will laugh.

Echizen will say nothing.

Fuji will leave.

Echizen will linger.

They are the same. They are totally different. One the super prodigy, the other a super rookie, one famed for his brains the other for his expertise in comparison to his age, and when they are compared they could very well have the same amount of genius.

Blue and gold, brown and black. A prospective lover, a protégé, and the man who knows everything but does nothing because they are the same, yet at the same time, totally different.

--/

Fuji knows that Echizen is wrong.

He knows the implications that the first year set upon him on the roof during that lunch break, and he thinks he understands why somebody would come to that conclusion, but all the same, Echizen is completely, utterly, wrong.

There's no way that he could like Tezuka. They are only friends _they have been for three years_, and it's only because of that that he can get Tezuka to talk _even though he never talks to Oishi_, and there's no reason to ruin a perfectly good friendship with both Echizen and Tezuka _because he is afraid and he has already burned his bridges with Echizen_.

Fuji knows, Fuji knows.

He knew that Yuuta would hate him when he came to Seigaku _no he didn't_, knew that tennis would become something more _he only signed up because Tezuka did_, knew that Echizen would like Tezuka _he only found out after a month_, and he knows that he does not like Tezuka. Not that way.

_You liar, where is your genius now?_

Because Tezuka is his captain, because Tezuka means the most to him, because Tezuka has always been a pillar and even geniuses need some support. The silence on whimsical afternoons, propped up against a fence reading a book and cutting out pictures and creating scrapbooks, because every memory is precious, and every memory needs to be remembered otherwise it will slip away.

He only picked up a camera after Yuuta left him behind.

And he doesn't want to risk it.

So he doesn't like Tezuka, because Tezuka is worth it. There is no way that he will ever like him. Ever.

Fuji knows. _At least, he thinks so_.

--/

Echizen rises and wanes with the seasons, and it is fast approaching fall. Ryoma can feel his body begin to slow down. The mornings are colder, his body heavier, and he floats through his days in a cloud of lethargy. The tennis balls are losing their bounce and more people are turning up at school bundled up in jackets and scarves. His eyes are always at half-mast now and he feels like he's sleepwalking through every day, and he only feels keen exhaustion as he watches Buchou avoid him and Fuji-senpai stop speaking to him.

_This love stuff_, he thinks, _is overrated_. _At least Momo-senpai's still around_.

He has always felt closer to the other two "monsters" on his team. Their tennis puts them near the same level, with Buchou and himself having a closer understanding of their sport than Fuji. Buchou was his lighthouse, and Fuji had been his anchor. Buchou had guided him, and he was grateful for that (not that he would ever say it) and whenever something seemed to bother him, Fuji would always turn up on the roof the next day, Momoshiro suspiciously absent, sit down next to him and just smile like he always did.

"_Saa…Echizen, how are you feeling today?" _

He misses that. He doesn't have enough anchors to weigh him down, and he has only ever had one or two guiding lights—currently Tezuka and Fuji. His anchors number only two: Fuji and Karupin. Tezuka is an anchor of a different kind, the same way he is a guiding light—he sets him back up when he falls down, and stays by him during the recovery. He's never had anyone do that for him before. Fuji and Karupin are the people he speaks to every once in a while. Karupin is his daily emotional dumping spot, and but sometimes the words that he speaks to Karupin only work if he speaks to a human being, and that's why he needs Fuji-senpai. Human understanding sets Karupin and Fuji apart, because no matter what Ryoma thinks, Karupin is still a cat, albeit a very intelligent one.

He sighs as he lays himself out on the roof, soaking in the last remnants of autumn sun, the slightly chilly breeze ruffling his hair. He doesn't bother opening his bentou; he isn't very hungry. He feels so sleepy. It descends upon him like a cloud, and he struggles to keep his eyes open as they droop.

Truth be told, he's not sure if he can call it love. Love is supposed to be precious, something that warms the heart and keeps it beating, something to die for. Love is what keeps his parents together even though his stupid Oyaji is always reading porn; they still cuddle up to each other side by side on Sunday afternoons when his mother doesn't have any work. They still chase each other around the house (mostly his Mom after his Dad), but it usually ends when Rinko shrieks with laughter and Nanjiroh laughs along with her, his deeper voice murmuring something unintelligible as he loops his hands around her waist and kisses her on the lips with a tenderness in his movements and his eyes that Ryoma has never seen directed at another woman, even through his father's womanizing.

_That_, he thinks, _is love. _

_That_, he thinks a second later, succumbing to drowsiness and closing his eyes, _is what Buchou and Fuji-senpai have._

He doesn't include himself in the equation—there's no room for him there. There are so many gaps, so many where he could insert himself and ruin things, and there are so many different ways to stop it from happening, but he's tired.

Buchou is avoiding him. Ryoma thinks it's because of their strange confrontation in the locker room. Whatever Buchou feels, it's enough to make him steer clear of his own protégé. Fuji-senpai is avoiding him too. He knows the why in that one, at least.

He's given Fuji-senpai a week, and he still hasn't done anything. He wonders if his senpai is biding his time, or if he's really that stupid.

He's tired, empty, and he thinks, _It's time for this to end._


	8. Resolution

Logic

_**Standard Disclaimers Apply.**_

A/N: There's a quite a bit of time skip in this fic. So, when Echizen first confesses to Tezuka, it's late August, during the summer holiday, so when they get back to school it's already September. A month passed during Fuji's introduction segment, while he was figuring stuff out between Tezuka and Ryoma, making it October. Then a week passed with Fuji trying to get Ryoma and Tezuka together, and another week passed last chapter while Ryoma was waiting for Fuji to make a move after their talk on the roof. This chapter takes place the next couple weeks, so we are in late October, or the beginning of November.

Also, looking back, I've noticed some errors and such, and sum formatting that sort of bothers me. Sometime in the future, I might go back and revamp those chapters. Also there was a steamier, super OOC version of the _Battlefield _chapter, and I was wondering if anyone would want to see that as a bonus chapter. Please let me know!

* * *

_Resolution_

The autumn mornings are getting colder with each passing day. Echizen wears a scarf when he rides with Momo-senpai now, and the wind chill turns his nose red and makes him grateful that the tennis locker rooms are heated. The color leeches from him, his hair dark, pitch black underneath the brim of his white cap, his skin pale as the sun refuses to tan his skin. His golden eyes seem to dim, and take on a shade of static bronze, a cross between their typical golden cast and a not-quite mahogany.

His speed decreases just a little bit, but he always has just enough to get past Inui's Juice punishments and to make that one last shot to capture the game. From the back, his shoulders droop, and his neck is always bent, not chin up, back straight in the cocky form that the regulars know best. Echizen gets headaches often, winces at the slightest noise, falls asleep too many times in class and has bags under his eyes. His lips are chapped and they crack and bleed when he speaks or makes an expression, making him wince as he tastes the iron that he sweeps onto his tongue.

He sleeps little in the nights, dreams away his days. The regulars don't know what's wrong with him.

Fuji and Tezuka still aren't talking to him, and the why of that is also leaving the regulars baffled. They wonder if that is why Echizen is looking so unhealthy these days; did something happen between the three of them? Even so, they are hesitant to interfere. Fuji is renowned for his spiteful vengeances against those who try to invade what he considers a personal matter, or something that he feels is best dealt by himself. With Fuji, the first thing to keep in mind is that of the many things that he is, he is first and foremost a member of the Seigaku regulars, but he is also a sadistic male teenager with the brains and the intimidation tactics to come through with his threats. Tezuka is clearly off limits the same way he is off limits in so many other ways—he is the captain, and while his stoicism commands him authority and status, garners him respect, it makes him unapproachable in friendlier, more personal contexts.

If the regulars ask Echizen what is wrong, they will never get an answer. Echizen is very private person, and though he can't lie for his life, when he decides that a secret is a secret, nothing passes his lips until he thinks it is the right time for it.

Echizen watches his teammates goof around as they cool down from their warm-up laps. Cooling down is a rather accurate term for the current fall weather, and maybe there will even be snow on his birthday when the winter comes. His thoughts turn toward the empty shrine that will keep him company on his thirteenth; both his mother and his father will be out of town when school vacation arrives, his mother on an unavoidable company trip back to the States, her father going with her for companionship. Ryoma was told that his father would stay behind if he wanted him to, but Ryoma never said a thing.

Echizen is an instinctive creature. He acts based on _want_ and _need_. Concessions are made of course, when necessary, but he is selfish and to him, the universe really does revolve around only himself and his wants, because there never been anybody to teach him otherwise. His father taught him competition and rivalry, his mother the sharp edge of words and cooking. There is no one to teach him how to feel for others, how to be sympathetic and generous and giving.

He feels his way out, just as he feels his way through everything else. His way of living is raw and natural, the same way his smarts are, the same his skill in tennis is. For someone who does not understand subtleties, Echizen has never taken anything slow, it's hard, fast, and unexpected, leaving behind an impact so strong it takes breath away.

It's what being at Seigaku has done to him. For the first time, there are other people to care about, other people who _matter_, no one like the friends he made back in America, people to just hang out and waste time with. Close, close, close and then too much so, and he keeps himself under careful measure, watching, learning how to interact with this new feeling,with the foreign thing called friendship. And he understands. No one minds that he is sarcastic, no one minds that he is an arrogant ass, the y just like him as a friend, a _friend_, and there is no give an take with this. It's natural, and there's no real reason aside from the simple—_"We're a team. We're friends. We matter to each other, care about each other. Isn't that enough?"_

And Echizen understands simplicity. Slowly, his world fills with color and his heart pounds in his chest and he feels the exhilaration of actually living a life, instead of just existing. But the new feeling comes, quiet and unassuming, taking him by surprise one Saturday afternoon, and he hears the words tumble from his mouth, sweat pouring down his neck and from the feeling tennis, from the hand in his own, from that inevitable connection that he and his Buchou always make on the court, and he commits himself to something he never thought he would feel.

And no longer is instinct the only thing to live by. There are feelings now where there have been none before, and he finds himself tossing and turning in the night as he teaches himself how to feel—_I like Buchou Buchou likes Fuji Fuji doesn't know and he likes Buchou too I'm confused I don't know what to do I wish I had someone to talk to—_and for all this time, being cool and mature, he is only a boy of twelve, not yet thirteen.

When feelings fail, there is only one thing to fall back to, and that is instinct.

--/

Bright Sunday morning, and Tezuka wakes up to go eat breakfast with Echizen at nine in the morning, his stomach a little queasy and feeling blank. The message came yesterday, in small font from _zen_strike1224 _at _.jp_, short and to the point just as Echizen is in real life.

_Buchou:_

_We need to talk. Can you meet me at the Metro Café near the shopping plaza for breakfast at nine tomorrow? The address is 147 Ginpaku Street, two blocks away from the sport shop that makes the team jerseys. _

_-Echizen_

The café is nice, well furnished in rustic style, fresh flowers in glass vases and pieces of art framed in brown, bright cheery colors and nonsensical shapes ringing in a playful feel. There are cozy booths with comfortable chairs that don't sink in when people sit on them, and soft jazzy blues music plays in the background, laid back and second fiddle to the enthusiastic conversations that come from every table. The walls are painted a welcoming cream color, and the curtains that surround the white bordered windows are decked out in baby blue checkers, darker blue rick-rack running up the seams. The welcoming atmosphere feels more like a death sentence than a cheery Sunday morning pick-me-up.

Echizen is waiting for him at a four-seater table out back, dressed neatly in a short-sleeved, dark green button-up shirt and steel grey jeans, his hair blowing in the gentle breeze. It is a nice autumn day today, with warm sunlight and regular whimsical whiffs of wind, not too hot and not too cold. All at once the tension that has been building in Tezuka since he woke rises, roiling and burning in the pit of his stomach, and he wonders faintly if he'll end up getting an ulcer from all this.

"Buchou," he says simply, glancing up through his eyelashes. He doesn't do it the way some of the girls in Tezuka's class do, giggling and fluttering, acting coy and hard to get. Echizen just looks up at Tezuka that way because it takes to much effort to actually tilt his head up to stare at someone taller than him. There is an extra menu lying under the plate across from him, and it is obvious where he wants Tezuka to sit. The captain can't help but obey, and he slides the napkin neatly into his lap as he cracks open the laminated pages, text well-spaced and plain enough to be readable, little pictures of the dishes running up the margins. Echizen dips a finger into his water glass and begins to draw it around the lip of his cup, and a pure tone rises into the air, sweet and musical.

Tezuka's stomach begins to do flip-flops as he runs his eyes over the text, seeing but not absorbing. He grips the menu just a little too hard; his knuckles are white and they are on the verge of shaking. Somehow, this meeting is important, not just because this is a chance to dissolve the uneasy tension that has been coming between him and Echizen for the past few weeks, but also because he has a feeling. It's the kind of feeling that serves him so well in tennis, primal, instinctual, and it tells him that they are waiting for something. A slight pressure begins to weigh down at his temples, and he closes eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to wish it away.

Tezuka waves a waitress over, and she blushes as she takes his order, sending not-so-discreet peeks toward his face and companion. He orders something light; the rolling movements of his stomach don't agree with heavy fare like pancakes piled with strawberries and cream. She leaves with out a fuss, nearly knocking over the server who is walking to a table behind Tezuka and Echizen's, and she stumbles away, mouth full of apologies.

Echizen watches her walk away and comments quietly, "She reminds me of that Ryuuzaki girl."

Tezuka frowns a little. He can't tell if Echizen is deliberately trying to be mocking, but it is painfully obvious that Ryuuzaki Sakuno has had a crush on Echizen Ryoma for the longest time. Echizen meets his disapproving gaze over the table and scoffs, turning his head to the side and propping it up with his arm, elbow on the table, heel of his hand digging into his palm, disgruntled and annoyed.

"It's just an observation, Buchou," he grumbles.

"It could've been interpreted otherwise," Tezuka replies stiffly, defensively. Echizen toys with his glass again, drawing in the beads of water that condense on the outside before smudging it over with his fingers and drinking a bit of his water. Tezuka can't stop his index finger from tapping the tablecloth incessantly; it's annoying, even to him. It's awkward, two pre-teen boys sitting at a café table alone on a pleasant fall day. Once again, they seem to be waiting for something.

Their food hasn't arrived yet, but Echizen suddenly moves, eyes focusing suddenly on something over Tezuka's shoulder, and his mouth quirks, on purpose, into a wicked smirk, looking diabolical and bitter all at once.

"Fuji-senpai," he says in his typical drawl without preamble, waving a lazy hand. Tezuka hastily turns to look behind himself, and he finds himself drawn up to two open blue eyes in a familiar face. His mouth is dry.

Fuji, for once, seems stunned, eyes wide and unguarded and a little pale. He is not smiling. His eyes flick toward Echizen's face, before darting back to Tezuka's with some apprehension. He takes a step back but Echizen clears his throat noisily and actually smiles, just a small twist of his lips upward, insincere. For a moment, he and Fuji seem to have traded faces.

"Take a seat, Fuji-senpai," he says, and he gestures toward the seat next to Tezuka. "Buchou and I can use some extra company." Fuji sits down, stunned into stone, and Tezuka is a veritable ball of nerves beside him. And Echizen, the one who has managed to manipulate them both, merely looks at them levelly, his smile gone and his gaze calculating, before glancing to the side and saying, "Oh look, the food is here."


	9. Bicycle Built for Two

Logic

_**Standard Disclaimers Apply.**_

A/N: Did you all enjoy the surprise last chapter? I actually had chapter eight done when I posted chapter seven, but I was told that chapter eight was a little surprising by my beta **Apple Snapple** so we decided to delay the release to make more of an impact. I don't actually know if it was surprising at all. XDD A lot of you seemed to like the line where Fuji and Echizen traded 'faces'. Also, a lot of you mentioned you liked how Echizen was taking the initiative and solving the problem. Why is that?

Thanks for all your reviews and comments! I got a lot of good ones last time. They mean a lot—I find out what I've been doing right, and what I can or should improve on. And it's always interesting to see what other people think—often, the view of the author is _vastly_ different from that of the reader, as I have learned. :D This chapter was hard to write; I didn't know how to wrap it up. Thanks to **Apple Snapple** for her preview work!

I hope you enjoy this next chapter! Also, can I have a few second opinions? I was thinking of writing a genderswitch!Echizen fic, but would anybody actually be interested in reading it?

* * *

_Bicycle Built for Two_

"_If you're the one who thought of it, you're the one who should carry it out." _

"_After all, I'm not the one that Buchou likes, Fuji-senpai." _

"_Me…go out with Tezuka?"_

Somehow, the joke is on him. Echizen, who likes Tezuka, is encouraging him, Fuji, who doesn't like Tezuka, to go out with the esteemed captain. Tezuka also conveniently likes somebody else, and Echizen is the only one who knows who it is. Not Fuji, friend of three years and closest confidant, but Echizen, transfer student and superstar freshman tennis rookie.

Echizen is worming his way into Tezuka through a mode that Fuji cannot emulate or copy—tennis. Tennis is too genuine for Fuji, who is a master of trickery, too direct and blunt, much more Echizen's blatant style. It is why Fuji cannot believe it took him so long to understand the strange happenings on the courts month prior. Echizen trying to be discreet draws far more attention than Echizen being frank.

It's a good thing, he muses, spinning a pen between his fingers, because now Tezuka will have somebody to take care of him. Fuji has taken care of Tezuka so far, but he can't be there forever. There has to be constant, and the closest thing there is to that in the fickle world of human emotion, is a lover. Echizen is the concentrated, one-focus type, so there will be little to no chance of his cheating on Tezuka. That focus also means that Echizen will be fixated on only Tezuka. Adding to the already existing fixation-obsession that Echizen has on his Buchou, is the fact that Echizen practically admitted to Fuji that he liked Tezuka on the roof two weeks ago.

Echizen is a perfect fit.

Fuji frowns as he feels a twist in his chest. It's a strange feeling, he decides, having to give up a friend. It brings him phantom aches and pains when he thinks about Tezuka having to spend time with another person. It must be friendly jealousy, he thinks to himself, because soon he will have to share Tezuka. Fuji has shared before. He has offered to share with Yuuta before, only to be rejected, shared with Kikumaru, shared sushi with Kawamura, but somehow this time, sharing is different. It must be because Tezuka is a person, not an inanimate object. And he is sharing with Echizen, who is notorious for being stubborn, not letting go even when he is supposed to. There shouldn't be a difference in how he shares Tezuka at all.

Except that there is.

Saying that he's sharing Tezuka implies that Tezuka belongs to him. But Tezuka is a person, so he would inevitably have to share Tezuka. Fuji shouldn't be thinking of Tezuka as his anyway, because that is a sign of either extreme obsession, or extreme infatuation, neither of which should be possible, in Fuji's opinion. And if sharing is his problem, he should also be jealous of Oishi—as the fukubuchou of the team, Oishi and Tezuka also spend a larger chunk of time together planning team events and the like. But he isn't, so it must be something specific about Echizen that makes him upset.

Many people compare Echizen to Tezuka and call them the same, but Fuji knows that this is not the case. Echizen is, oddly, much more open than Tezuka, not only through his strange trait of honesty, but also because his indifferent façade is natural to him and he does not have a leadership position. Also, if he has interpreted enough of Echizen's comments about his home life correctly, Echizen's family is much, _much_ more loosely constructed than Tezuka's rather traditional family. Echizen also comes from a foreign country, specifically America, where there is less of an emphasis on politeness, etiquette, discipline and the traditional roles of child and parent. Echizen's way of bluntness seems rude to his Japanese teachers, but Fuji remembers the first time Echizen explained that he had received detention, and just how confused the freshman seemed to be. America is probably more fixated on raising independent individuals, and Echizen is, if nothing else, fiercely independent.

Aside from his heritage, Echizen has a closer relationship to Tezuka compared to some of the other regulars because he is, in essence, Tezuka's successor. He is being groomed to become the pillar of Seigaku in the coming years and it is universally known that he is Tezuka's protégé. The only other thing that Fuji can think of is that Echizen likes Tezuka.

The train of thought that observation will lead to is something that Fuji never wants to think about. His chest tightens, and he relaxes from his usual smile to a small frown. Something roils in his stomach, the same way it did when Echizen told him that he was the one who should go out with Tezuka.

He knows. Of course he knows.

It's stupid to be a genius and not know who the genius is. And true to that, Fuji knows who he is, inside and out. And while he knows what has been happening to him, he hasn't wanted to accept it. He remembers of course, times of _too soon too soon _and then instances of indecision, wavering about Valentine's Day and Christmas, most especially on October Seventh. And he remembers the feeling squeezing him, paining him, and the knowledge that he can't say it, he can never say it to him, to Tezuka.

_I like you. Did you know that, Tezuka?_

And now, he has a rival. A rival who can see through him, a rival who knows how he feels, and Fuji hasn't a clue how he found out.

And now, perhaps, it is finally time to fight. Maybe it is time for Fuji to step forward and face it. Perhaps Tezuka will not start avoiding him. Perhaps he will say yes. Perhaps they will stay friends, even if one of them is not in love with the other. Perhaps it will all work out.

Perhaps.

And when his computer tells him that he's got mail, it just might be at exactly the right time.

--/

He's wrong, and again, it's because of Echizen. The minute he sees them sitting together, he feels faint, feels the blood drain out of his face, and he knows knows knows.

_Such a genius. _

Echizen's sour smirk is not any reassurance, and his kouhai's voice becomes a soothing hum that blends in with the buzzing ambient noise that seems to run interference in his ears. Woodenly, he drops into the seat next to Tezuka, and those eyes _gold gold gold, precious and corrupting_ bore straight through him and he feels flimsy, like a last tissue barely clinging to its box. He barely notices Echizen's request for an extra menu, and shortly after a small stack of pancakes arrives on the table before Echizen, and a bowl of oatmeal and blueberries sits innocently before Tezuka. And even in the middle of recomposing himself, Fuji can't help the small smile that crawls weakly up his face as he thinks that oatmeal is just so characteristic of the Seigaku buchou's strict old-man upbringing.

And Echizen laughs, voice sticky-sweet like the dark maple syrup pooling in the small ceramic container sitting at the edge of his plate, and leans forward, as if imparting a dirty, _dirty _secret

_Isn't that what he's doing….?_

"Look, Buchou," Echizen says indifferently, waving a lazy hand towards Fuji's face.

"Did you see that? Did you see him smile for you?"

It's what this is all about. This is about being noticed, being unnoticed, and perhaps, being deliberately ignored. Tezuka is like living stone beside him, tense as he mashes blueberries to a pulp with his spoon, knuckles white. Fuji waves the waitress over to order, speaking with his usually careless smile.

They do not speak as they eat, and surprisingly enough, Tezuka is the first to finish. Echizen seems more content to push his food around on his plate, syrup going untouched and he satisfies himself with two cups of the complimentary coffee instead. Fuji watches carefully, sizing up his opponent with chips of blue ice as Echizen wraps his hands about the mug through the gap of the handle, blowing lightly, and drinking it black, raw, pure.

Bitter.

Fuji wants to laugh, but he has more control than that.

When Echizen is on his third cup and his pancakes have come back in a Styrofoam container wrapped in plastic bag, Tezuka is cradling a cup of herbal tea and Fuji is sipping at his ice water.

"Buchou likes you Fuji-senpai," Echizen says blithely, out of the blue, before taking a long draught of his coffee. Tezuka flushes slowly, and Fuji's blue, blue eyes slide over and take in that handsome face. Tezuka's blush, just like the rest of him, comes up slow and ends up well-done, just the way Fuji likes it.

"Fuji-senpai likes you too, Buchou."

Oh, the cheek. A confession like that is something that should be said privately, between the two people involved.

"Well," Fuji says slowly. "Is this a confessional, Echizen?" He glances at Tezuka briefly. The normally unmovable captain is fire-engine red, his hands tangling with his paper napkin, tearing it to little bits and wisps.

"Yeah," Echizen agrees, "Seeing as I like Buchou, too. Technically I also have first dibs since I confessed first." He puts his coffee down like an adult, the cup making almost no sound as it touches the saucer, just a small bell-like chime of ceramic on ceramic.

Fuji raises an eyebrow, inwardly surprised. He hadn't thought that the socially retarded Echizen would do something like that. "Oh?" he purrs dangerously, "And how do you know that?"

Echizen ignores his question and continues on, dropping his tea spoon into his white coffee mug with a clang, swirling it about idly. He doesn't put in any ice cubes, and he doesn't put in any sugar cubes.

Tezuka can only hear the clang of metal, Fuji's presence to his right, and Echizen's soft, husky voice.

"You know, Buchou, Fuji-senpai's been bothering me a lot the past month," he drawls, lifting the cup to his lips and drinking from it. Settling it back down, he props his head up on his hand, elbow and other forearm on the table, leaning forward. "He kept encouraging me to go out with you." As if speaking of nothing significant, Echizen picks at a loose thread in the white tablecloth. Echizen seems to have to continually have something in his hands. "He told me that he wanted you to have someone who would take care of you, that he wants someone who will be good to you—"

"—Echizen, this isn't your business and I would appreciate it if you stop taking the words out of my mouth—"

"—he wants someone to make you happy because he thinks you deserve it, to love you, because he wants to but he can't."

Fuji grinds his teeth together as he smiles. "Echizen, I won't be letting that go." His tone is light, but the hands in his lap are clenching so tight they leave pale half-moons in his palms. He wants to leave. This corned feeling is uncomfortable; Fuji has never been caught unawares like this. He is used to being in control, being able to manipulate others. Now, being manipulated himself, he doesn't quite find it so funny anymore. "That was private information."

"Not if you told me it wasn't," Echizen retorts, flicking lazy eyes over and scanning his senpai from head to toe. His left hand comes off the table, tracing the rim of his coffee cup the same way he traced the rim of his water glass when Tezuka was the only one there. "He told me to do it you know," he continues conversationally, "'Cause he already knew that I liked you, so he thought I'd be perfect for the job." He snorts and glances dismissively at Fuji. "For a genius, you're sort of stupid, Fuji-senpai."

Tezuka's hands have long stopped tearing his napkin asunder. He does not look at either of them in the face, but the story embarrasses him a little. He has spent the last few months in confusion, unable to chose, unable to confront Echizen and unable to resolve. It is not within his nature to be expressive through words; he expresses through action. It had been that the apology in the locker rooms hadn't been enough, but it had felt as if there had been nothing else that he could do.

"I told him he should do it himself."

Echizen's gaze flickers to Tezuka's.

"It's so obvious, if you know where to look. Standing so close you almost touch,

Being close yet being in different classes; it's so instinctual to you two."

Tezuka wants to hold his breath, because he can feel what's coming, and his heart wants to leap out of his chest, beating, beating, _beating_; Fuji desperately wants Echizen to shut up, because somehow he can't believe a word flying out of the stupid freshman's mouth. There's no way any of it can be true because Tezuka does not like him, because he refuses to like Tezuka, because his heart _hurts_ and because the farther away he is the less damage he will receive. He wants to reach over and clamp his hands over his kouhai's mouth—

"And if Fuji-senpai was not so hesitant about whatever the heck he's hesitant about, he would be the one. We all know it. And you want it Buchou." Echizen stops all motion, and just stares at Tezuka, somehow strong in his defeat. "Do you remember what I asked you when I told you I liked you? I asked you if it was Fuji-senpai blocking your true answer."

Fuji studies the teammate that has so quickly become a stranger to him, unsure of lies or deceit. Tezuka does not respond. He and Echizen stare each other as the seconds pass, the light glinting off Tezuka's glasses just so, that his eyes cannot be seen. His lips tremble, and Tezuka wants to say the words, but finds that he cannot. And though Tezuka does not object or confirm, Fuji ruthlessly quashes the little bubble expanding in his chest, releasing his tight fists and relaxing his shoulder muscles one at a time until he is quite composed. Echizen breaks his and his captain's staring contest to settle a white-knuckled grip about his mug, and drinks his coffee. When he puts the mug down, only the dregs are left.

"Well? Was it Fuji-senpai? Is it still Fuji-senpai?"

Tezuka flushes slowly under intense scrutiny. He has never had so strong an urge to bow his head and stare at fiddling fingers since the time he was scolded by his grandfather for using his judo skills on yakuza in the schoolyard. His glacne moves to Fuji, who is also sitting there, waiting, eyes open, blue blue blue.

"Tezuka," Fuji says softly. An encouragement. Does he want to know the answer too?

And the blue begins to ice over, _Steeling himself,_ Tezuka recognizes, and wonders when he learned to read Fuji so well. And he remembers the resilience of bamboo from a kendo match he monitored a long time ago. The swords clutched in thickly gloved hands had been flexible, but strong and hard to break.

He has been too concerned with reaction, too worried about cause and effect, about hurting and wounding in ways that cannot be repaired. He has forgotten how strong his teammates can be, and he makes a decision.

"…..Fuji."

"Aa."

"Was what Echizen said true?"

Fuji does not react to the question outwardly, but he is surprised at Tezuka's boldness. _Perhaps Echizen is rubbing off on him, in more ways than one_, Fuji thinks bitterly. It is up to him then, but he has no defense for himself, no protections against this sudden attacker, and he thinks for once it might be all right to give in. It will not be any different in the future. Inevitably, Echizen and Tezuka will get together, because they have an understanding, because they just _are_. And it is exactly what Fuji wants. He has never forgotten what happened with Yuuta. _Memories, treasure them. You have photos. You have the team._

There is really nothing to lose.

"Aa." And the ice retreats, and Fuji leans back in his chair as his shoulders seem to slouch down a little more, weighed by something. Echizen glances at him, before returning to his one-sided staring match with the side of Tezuka's head. He arches a brow and repeats his question.

"'It's Fuji-senpai, isn't it?' That's what I asked you. So is it the same now? " Echizen feigns boredom, turning a sugar cube about with his hands, staring down beyond the tablecloth. He looks up again in a moment; his gaze is not hopeful or entreating. The look is flat, a demand.

A pause.

Tezuka nods, not trusting himself to speak.

Fuji's eyes widen a little, and the next question comes out somewhat breathlessly. "Tezuka…really?"

The captain nods again, face red. Fuji laughs a little, as if to himself, the sound free and relieved. His body drains of tension and he slumps against his seat back.

Echizen sighs, and digs about in his pocket. Tezuka continues to stare at him, worried of his reaction. Echizen is strong yes, but that is tennis. Crushes are something else. But when Echizen looks up, his eyes are clear and dry, his mouth set in a wry smile, a small one. He places two pieces of paper on the table.

"Tickets to the Modern Art Museum's new exhibition on photographing mountains and monoliths."

He gets up, grabbing his leftover pancakes, and Fuji stops him, reaching across the table and grabbing his wrist.

"…Echizen. What was this all about?" Even though Tezuka can be labeled as 'his', Fuji still has a rival. And this new attacker is different—information gathering is essential.

Of course, Echizen doesn't understand such subtleties. He smirks bitterly. "I wanted to steal him away, you know, because you're an idiot and you take too long to make up your mind, Fuji-senpai. But Buchou wouldn't be happy if I did that. He'd just think of you more. Long story short—I got tired of waiting for something I can't have. I have better ways to spend my time."

"Like nursing a broken heart?" Fuji asks, eyes narrowing. Tezuka frowns a bit from beside him, and Fuji's brief gaze apologizes in place of words.

"Exactly." And Echizen wrenches his wrist away, still smirking, walking swiftly out of the café.


	10. Weakest Link

Logic

_**Standard Disclaimers Apply.**_

A/N: Uh, so. Merry Christmas? XDD Thanks to all of you who have stuck by me all this time—your support is greatly appreciated! And to all of you who have favorited or alerted this story, thank you for your patronage! I hope you enjoy the rest of your stay here.

On another note, I have been thinking of expanding my horror one-shot _Monster_ into a series of drabbles/vignettes on general spirit/demon!Ryoma creepiness. Anyone up for that? :D /shameless self-promotion

I'm afraid this chapter is just as long as the ones that precede these, but it's only going to get harder to write these chapters from now on, so I hope you guys can hold on. Once again, sorry for the long wait, but thank you for all your support! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

* * *

_Weakest Link_

It's surprisingly easy to stop liking Buchou. He doesn't really like the implication that he never liked Buchou in the first place, but he knows that's wrong because of the lump of burning sitting still in the empty cavern of his chest. So perhaps what he means is that it's surprising easy to act in a completely typical manner towards Buchou, smart aleck comments and reigned-in defiance and all.

He's had practice in this before, pretending. It really isn't hard. He stops looking at Buchou during practice, he stops thinking about him in English class, he stops dwelling on heartburn and brown water chestnut peels. He starts thinking about December, about a lonely birthday, about snowstorms and sukiyaki, and he kind of wishes that he was going to America with his Oyaji and Okaa-san—a temporary reprieve, just like his pretending.

It still bothers him, giving Buchou away like that. He knows that he was right—if he had dealt himself the right cards he could have been the one hanging off Buchou's arm right now, he could've been the one exchanging chaste kisses with Buchou in the tennis clubroom. He could have bought those museum tickets, kept them, and made a date of it. But he didn't, and it grates on him, this stab of white-hot annoyance that throbs deep in his belly every time he sees Fuji-senpai and Buchou together. He wants to rip them apart, tear the idea of Fuji and Tezuka to bits and pieces until the filth of it cakes under his fingernails.

And again, tennis becomes his refuge. A smash, an unspoken gesture of anger. A drop, a sigh of defeat. A twist serve, a physical lash-out in place of his own fist. He only has so many weeks to sink himself in tennis before he finally sinks into his blankets and drowns himself in them. Time doesn't wait for anyone, and the winter is determined to leech more from him, taking energy from his bones, color from his features, bounce from the tennis balls and warmth from the body. Sleep is a constant lure, jerking his head this way and that as his vision dulls and blurs. He learns to hate the paired smears of brown that make up Tezuka and Fuji, learns to hate the weathered white Fila cap that seems to put too much weight on his head, learns to hate burrowing in his bed, hiding his picture frames, writing Tezuka's name over and over absent-mindedly on kanji practice sheets, only to waste a whole page to agitated ripping and trashing.

He can't help but watch them sometimes. He doesn't know why he's so intent on punishing himself so badly; maybe he's a closet masochist. But it's fascinating to him. What does Fuji have that he doesn't? What is it about him that captivates Tezuka? There are many differences and many similarities between Fuji and Ryoma, but Ryoma tries his best not to pay attention to the stinging little jabs that his mind thrusts into his chest. He's afraid; even if it's for Tezuka, he doesn't want to change. But watching Fuji, watching Tezuka, separately and together, finding himself stock still at home full of confusion and want, he's worried he's already changed too much.

-/

Red means stop. Green means go. Yellow means proceed with caution. And Echizen Ryoma is exactly like one of those bright yellow signs warning the world to slow down, because this is a surprise crossing: Spontaneous Xing, unpredictable people coming through. Fuji is the one on the losing side here; he is a genius, and is thus predictable. His genius has been analyzed times over by Inui, displayed on the court in seconds all clear for anyone to see. But Ryoma is only a freshman, with the unsure background of a different country backing him up. It blares about him in a defined line of arrogance, apathy, and take-no-shit attitude—_I'm different, I'm different!_

But even here, Echizen has to be different, and it burns like a blister in his mind to know that. Fuji is supposed to win, supposed to trump anybody else, he's supposed to be able to sweep Tezuka away and off his feet without any regrets. But Echizen, he is a splinter in the mind, and Fuji's skin bubbles and festers around him. It's a debt, Fuji's heart traded for two museum tickets. That it took Echizen for him to capture Tezuka is a triggered flag all on its own: Echizen is not off the game board yet. Fuji owes him now, and the manner in which he got together with Tezuka only enhances Echizen's advantage. It isn't uncommon for Fuji to find Tezuka in troubled silence, worrying about his protégé in one way or another.

More importantly, he cannot understand. Echizen self-sabotaged himself. Had he been the one with the advantage, he would have swept Tezuka away in a heartbeat, bundled the captain tight in his arms, squeezing him until all thoughts leaked out and only Fuji remained. He would have made him his. And even when Echizen had all the playing pieces on his side, even when he somehow knew all of Fuji's weak spots and had him caught in a web of _liar, liar, liar_, he turned right around and gave himself away, forfeit, folded, right when he held all the chips in the palm of his hand. And that bothers him. It irritates him that Echizen got away with being the better man, that Echizen was able to avoid the poisonous grasp of obsession, that Fuji cannot be the kind of person who will willingly sacrifice his wants for someone else's. It hurts to know that he cannot be that kind of generous person.

So he wants to know. He'll crack him open, he'll take Echizen apart, push him right off his Humpty-Dumpty wall and watch when he cracks and spills messily to spilt milk and scrambled yolk and whites.

Strangely enough, he doesn't think he'll enjoy it.

-/

He doesn't think he wants this, this uncertainty dangling over his head like a personal Sword of Damocles. He wishes he was back to being safe, wishes he was back to quiet and evenings full of hot green tea and homework, soaks in the bathtub and idle talk with his grandfather. Now, wherever he goes, the lump goes with him. It likes to move around, sometimes occupying the bob of his Adam's apple, sometimes lodging in his windpipe and making it hard to breathe, sometimes traveling with his bloodstream like a clot, just waiting to go into his veins and stop his heart.

All of this, Fuji and Echizen, is a threat. If he was smarter, he would have denied them both, he would have denied them everything. This, this _thing_, whatever it is, is not healthy. It is not worth the risk. Fuji and Echizen are teammates. A bad split with them could possibly tear asunder the morale and personal fabric of the team, a situation that would be exacerbated because the problem is emerging from the personal relationships of the three strongest members of the team. What he does, what Fuji does, what Echizen does, will affect the other two in turn. They are already too strongly linked.

And so, Tezuka can only regret, even in knowing that he could do nothing else, that there is no better situation. He can only look forward to the day when his parents find out he is not the perfect son they think he is, that he has a boyfriend, that he is possibly gay or bisexual, and thus unnatural and morally reprehensible. He fears it. He fears his grandfather's wrath, the man who taught him judo, but first taught him discipline and strength, balks at the thought of his mother's tears, a woman working hard to support her family through a good home, shudders at the idea of his father's quiet glance of disapproval, at times more crushing than any blow he could deal to himself.

Worst of all, he likes it. He likes the stolen moments, the brush of warmth against his hands, his cheeks, his lips, the happy smiles directed his way, the simmering secret held in the space between their bodies when they are in the presence of the others. He likes the weight of that blue gaze, loves that he can get Fuji to really _look_ at things, loves that he is the one that Fuji looks at. He enjoys the attentions, enjoys the affection, likes the hand-holding at times, relishes the rush of feeling he gets and the liquid fire that runs everywhere in his body.

He is alive now, humming, and he's intimidated by the insecurity of knowing that perhaps, before, he was just going through the motions. That all that discipline and strength went into decreasing the quality of his life, that he was doing it wrong the whole time. He can't reconcile this sensation with what he was before, some sort of pale shade, stoic and single-minded, veins and arteries tinged black and silver with the color of metal ores, stiff and inflexible.

And always, there are troubles and questions. Echizen is back to his old ways, deadpan and unyielding, but Tezuka sees the pallor in the freshman's face that dogs him from day to day, and sometimes Tezuka catches a dark head turning away from his gaze. They do not look each other in the eye anymore, they do not play tennis together anymore and there is something that hangs in the air when they stand next to each other, dark and full of promise. It bothers Tezuka that he has this only at the expense of Echizen, because with Echizen, feeling is to be treasured.

And he can't help but feel that ball of misery grow tighter in his throat when he thinks that Echizen doesn't smirk as much as he used to, keeps his head down more, seems ready to snap under the slightest pressure. He misses the casual Sunday matches, misses them sitting side by side drinking post-match beverages, him always with chilled green tea, Echizen always with the grape Ponta he loves so much. And it doesn't seem fair to feel this way, not when he has _(a boyfriend)_ Fuji.

Then again, without Echizen, there would be no Fuji. And the guilt burrows beneath his skin as he thinks and thinks and thinks while knowing there is nothing he can do.

He no longer has control. He does not know when or where he lost it, but Fuji and Echizen hold his strings now, and he doesn't know where they'll take him. He can only regret what has happened, and fear what will be done.


	11. Progress

Logic

**_ Standard Disclaimers Apply._**

A/N: I am, apparently, alive! Hope you enjoyed the last chapter. As for the timeline, we are in the last week of November; Echizen resolved the triangle issue the first Sunday, and Tezuka and Fuji have been going out for three weeks, give or take. I fell out of fandom for a while, but I'd really like to try finishing this story. So I apologize if the writing tone or style changes a little bit throughout the story. Also, just as a note, anything I write about certain character archetypes may not necessarily be my own thoughts, but the thoughts of the character thinking them at the moment. Please don't be offended!

I know this chapter is still pretty short, but I liked how the ending was circular in its way. Also, I wanted to get it out faster, since you've all been very patient.

_Progress_

He's been cooking more often, since both his mother and Nanako have been pretty busy. It's easy to do; most days he just makes a giant pot of stew or curry and the family just eats that for about three days on end. He gets sick of it too, but it isn't as if he doesn't have anything to do. Homework takes time, and so does tennis. Even though the cold is sapping away some of the bounce of the tennis balls and the vitality of the regulars, Tezuka has decreed that they won't stop practice until the first snowfall.

The alarm clock isn't enough anymore. Most days now, it takes both Karupin and Oyaji to wake him up, by purring against his chest, meowing in his ear, and shaking him awake roughly. He has nightmares of being shut away, in closets, in classrooms with no windows, in an empty clubroom with lockers dented all around him, the benches torn in half with tremendous force. And always, there is glass or splinters that cut into the calloused flesh of his hands, dig into his legs and make him bleed. There are no bandages, or alcohol pads to clean himself with, and he ends up crouched against a wall, hiding until the door opens, with two silhouettes at the door.

And he wakes up.

-/

"Echizen!" Momo shouts in greeting, as he brakes at Ryoma's door. Ryoma murmurs something vaguely polite as he clambers onto the bike with heavy limbs, sagging leadenly against the back of his friend, arms flung over broad shoulders haphazardly in a mock-hug. The scarf bundled against his face and neck makes for a soft pillow, and he can almost imagine his ever-thickening coat to be a blanket.

"E-Echizen?" stutters Momo, a little wary of the sudden sloppy affection directed towards him. "Are you okay?" he starts pedaling regardless; they can't afford to be late to the practices in the winters when everyone, including Oishi-fukubuchou, is a little bit cranky. Ryoma doesn't answer, just sighs against the warm back that shields him from the cutting wind, grateful that Momo isn't complaining about the extra weight he's had to support from Ryoma's unusual position.

"Echizen?"

"…hm?" Ryoma flexes the hands that have knotted themselves into the front of Momo's windbreaker.

"Are you alright?" Momo sounds hesitant, nervous. This cuddling is not typical Echizen behavior.

Echizen's hands clench, in surprise or wariness, Momo does not know. His voice gives nothing away, carefully metered. "Why do you ask, Momo-senpai?"

"Well…you've been really intense lately," Momo murmurs, cheeks red with embarrassment and wind-chill, eyes pointed firmly on the road ahead. "And you look really pale….and…and…"

He trails off, unable to place words to feeling. It's true. Echizen has been intense, almost inhumanly focused on his tennis. He is always looking drained and pale, his eyes almost fever-bright with some kind of dry-burning fire. And he looks like glass with his monochrome coloring in the fall days, a moving, walking, talking glass statue with amber for eyes. And among the seniors, there has been some talk, hushed to stop Echizen from hearing, with Kikumaru the most vocal: _"What's wrong with Ochibi?" _And no reply is received, nothing but the uneasy glances between the regulars, and Inui's mutters of increasing surveillance.

"….Your senpai are worried about you, you know," Momo finally manages, summoning the courage to slide his eyes back, hoping to catch Echizen's glance for a split-second before returning his attention back to the road.

Echizen is quiet on his back, hands clenched tightly in Momo's jacket, thinking of teammates and love and everything in between. He lets out another sigh, another gust of air, blowing out the flames he kept trapped inside.

"Tired…I'm just tired."

And when they get to school, Momo is surprised over by the slight squeeze of Echizen's arms before he gets off the bike.

"Thanks," Echizen mutters, putting his cap on to hide his red face, before turning and darting off to the locker room to change.

Momo stares after him, surprised. He snorts, heading toward the bike cages.

"That's not cute, Echizen. That's not cute at all."

-/

Tennis is tennis, as usual, because Seigaku is Seigaku and they never quit even when they should, and that's how Ryoma ends up doing doubles practice with Fuji because, frankly my dear, he doesn't give a damn if Inui's secretly the new Einstein, there's no way in hell he's eating the new monstrosity Inui had to spend four days secretly slow cooking in the home economics room. He's pretty sure Inui's the reason they had a fire drill two days ago; he doesn't care if Inui's creation looks like the most innocent muffins in the world, they _wobble_ when you poke them, and parts of them are a bright neon green like Inui thought the best types of muffins were the kinds with radioactive cinnamon crumble on the top.

He thinks he's going to cry because Fuji looks like he's trying to lose on purpose, because of course, Fuji is a crazy fucker who actually likes Inui's toxic experiments, and Tezuka? Who's Tezuka? Ryoma's busy trying to stay alive thanks very much, okay, buh-bye now—priorities are some important stuff.

Exactly, priorities, because he's definitely not thinking about whether or not Fuji and Tezuka nookie in the showers, or what they do when they're alone together, or why Fuji keeps looking at him like that, with this strange slow-burn blue-eyed gaze like he wants to eat Ryoma for dinner. He's definitely not doing his best to get a glimpse of the back of Fuji's neck where he thought there was a pink spot, and he just can't stop himself from looking at it, he needs to know if he dreamed it up, or if it was a mosquito bite, or if Tezuka put his mouth there and _sucked_—

So, of course, they lose, because Echizen's a bad team player who's ridiculously distracted and Fuji's a manipulative man with a plan. And as Echizen bites into a pseudo-muffin that's got the texture of monkey brains and the taste of his father's Ultimate Cooking Attempt #34, he's almost relieved when he realizes that first period is English today, and he can sleep all he wants now.

That is, until he wakes up with Fuji looming over him like a crazy axe murderer. For all he knows, Fuji probably is a crazy axe murderer (_more like a batshit boyfriend stealer)_ but hey, priorities, focus on the possibly homicidal senpai who looks like you just sucked all the water out of his favorite pet cactus.

"…Fuji-sempai?"

On his part, Fuji volunteered to take Echizen to the infirmary when he collapsed after one bite of Inui's Muffin Surprise, which needed a bit more Tabasco sauce and durian. Tezuka had sent him a warning glance from across the tennis courts, and Fuji felt his smile stiffen, a brief flare of jealousy sparking in his throat, burning as he turned away, his fingers digging into the meat of Echizen's thighs. Tezuka was _his_ boyfriend, Echizen had given him up, he knew that—but uneasiness slipped around him, through his attempts to grasp it, slippery and sly as an eel.

Echizen was a slight, but substantial weight on his back, his black hair tickling Fuji's ear as a residual autumn breeze rushed by. For a moment, Fuji almost felt like they were just sempai and kouhai again, though they had never been conventionally so. Theirs had always been a push-and-pull of fakeouts, jabs, and challenges, a game of subtle cues and precise words. Echizen was fun that way, even when he lost, because he always found a way to get Fuji back and keep his sempai on his toes. But Tezuka was one thing that neither of them was willing to give up, and the thrill of dancing around each other faded when they started to play for keeps.

It's difficult for Fuji to say if he misses it. While they were on good terms, he and Echizen have never been particularly close. They've always found each other interesting, and he watches over Echizen like he would any other junior on the team, but they couldn't exactly be considered friends—if Seigaku was a family, Fuji would be the occasionally helpful uncle who thought all he children were really quite entertaining. They were close, but still too far.

Nevertheless, the distance is strange. It isn't like people haven't avoided Fuji before, but it's not usually like this. The space between him and Echizen is awkward and full of potholes, an unsure thing with an odd potentiality, for what Fuji does not know. He still wants to know, still feels as he simultaneously owes something and is owed something, and when he looks at Echizen's face, still young and round with baby fat, something lingers there, between them. Jealousy, yes, envy, yes, but the unidentifiable runs loops about his head. To open Echizen up, to pry him apart atom by and atom and see what components build to make him up, it seems almost cruel. He looks so young, and sometimes it doesn't even feel right to go against him the way Fuji's doing.

Even if Echizen got away with being the good man, Fuji had believed in him, believed in his strength and his focus and his love for Tezuka, put it on level with his own, and looking back, his denial seems flimsy and irregular, a scared, cringing thing of outright refusal. Fear, fear of himself and the strength of his emotion, fear of chasing someone away again, and Echizen stood there on the school roof and told him that he had been looking in the wrong place the entire time. Even then, Echizen was unyielding. Supporting. Bolstering.

Had he been relying on Echizen the entire time? Trying to get him together with Tezuka, so Fuji's feelings would have no choice but to gutter out? Trying to be selfish, to hoard all the pieces of himself close so he wouldn't be hurt? He owes Echizen much more than he can pay—if it weren't for him there would never have been any resolution. Fuji had been willing to fight the day he met Echizen and Tezuka at the cafe, and that was only due to Echizen's pushing and nagging. But that is also why he feels he is owed. He should been allowed to find his own feet, should have been able to make his own peace with Tezuka. That isn't to say he isn't happy, he is, incredibly so, but he wasn't able to achieve it with his own strength. It bothers him that he has this but only because someone gave it to him, because someone thought that he couldn't do it on his own.

And he could have done it; he can do anything that he wants on his own. He's a genius. He does things on his own. That's what geniuses do, they do things that other people can't, by themselves. And geniuses are geniuses, regardless of how people react to them.

"Why did you do that?" he asks Echizen, eyes slitting open.

Fuji-sempai is not that tall, but when Ryoma's lying on an infirmary bed and Fuji-sempai's leaning over him with his eyes open with the light shining over him, he looks pretty scary.

"Do….what?" Ryoma replies, a little intimidated and more than a bit weirded out. "Eat Inui's jello muffins? That's a dumb—"

"Why didn't you fight for Tezuka?"

Air rushes out of Ryoma's lungs as he stares incredulously up at his sempai. "You're still hung up on that? Honestly, Fuji-sempai, it's been an entire month. If you haven't put the moves on Buchou yet, you're hopeless."

He does his best to dig himself a hole in the mattress when Fuji's face suddenly looms much, much closer—it feels like Fuji-sempai's trying to suck out his soul just by staring. "E-chi-zen—" Fuji purrs through gritted teeth. "Let me ask you again: why didn't you fight for Tezuka?"

"If you try to kill me, I'll scream, you know," Echizen says in response, eyes large and wary, suspicious.

"I'm not. Trying. To kill you. Stop dodging the question." Fuji looks like he just wants to grab him by the neck and shake. "Why didn't you fight for Tezuka?"

"Really, Fuji-sempai?"

"Yes, really, Echizen-_kun_."

Echizen scowls at him, crosses his arms over his chest.

"I thought we were done with all this. I said it didn't I? I got tired of waiting."

"And since when do you wait?" hisses Fuji, with a strange vehemence only partly recognizable as his own. "Since when did you start giving up? That's not the Echizen I know. The Echizen I know never takes no for an answer. The Echizen I know challenges, he plays people taller and faster and more powerful than him, smirks at them in the face and leaves them in the dust. So I'm asking you again: why didn't you fight for Tezuka?"

Echizen shoves Fuji back into his chair roughly, doesn't meet his eyes as he sits up. "Fuji-senpai, I already told you that I—"

"You know just as well as I do that that's not an acceptable answer. Tezuka may not have noticed, but I have. What's going on, Echizen? Why did you give up?"

"What does it matter?" Echizen scoffs, moving to get off the bed and leave. Fuji stands, the chair rattling from where he's kicked it, pins and blocks Echizen with his own body, hands gripping Echizen's wrists, his eyes open and furious, his face looming too, too close.

"It matters," Fuji whispers, breath hot where it fans Echizen's cheek. "It matters to me. Because you took my chance away. You—"

"I didn't do it for you," Echizen hisses, yanking at his wrists, meeting Fuji's gaze fearlessly. "You aren't the center of everything. You're not special. I did it for myself. I did it for me!"

"So I'm asking you—"

"Why do you want to know anyways?" Echizen shouts, struggling earnestly now. His feet kick at Fuji's legs, and he tries to reach over to dig nails into an arm so his wrists will be free.

"Because I relied on you!" Fuji shouts back, pinning Echizen's wrists to the bed beneath, their faces closer than ever. "Because I could have done it for myself! Because I could have had him all on my own—"

"Oh, just shut up! You're just looking for some validation, huh?" Echizen spits, still struggling, as he lunges closer, eyes bright and mouth twisted into a growl. "Oh boo-hoo, poor Fuji-sempai, can't even confess on his own because he isn't _worthy_—"

Fuji's nails bite into the meat of his wrists; Echizen flinches as his grip tightens. "That's right. I am looking for validation. I came that day, because I was ready to do something, and I was only ready because of you!" Fuji snarls, voice slowly working up in volume. He shakes Echizen firmly as he speaks. "I only ever moved when you were there. I only ever started playing the game because you were already on the board. I thought it would be safe! I thought—"

"You were thinking about yourself!" Echizen yells into his face. "You were trying to use me! I can't have Tezuka so if I shove him together with someone I approve of it'll be okay! And what about us? What about our feelings? You didn't ask Buchou how he felt. You didn't ask me how I felt. You just, you just tried to, to get use together—"

"Because you fit! Because—"

"Didn't it ever cross your mind that I didn't want to like him?" Echizen shrieks, stunning Fuji into silence, and he keeps talking, mouth moving faster and faster like he can't control anything anymore, water beginning to pool across his eyes. "I didn't want to! I didn't want to like him! I didn't want to look at him! I didn't want to be unwanted and I didn't want to be rejected because I wasn't you. He never even—he never—he never looked at me. He never wanted me. And after I told him, he didn't even try, didn't even keep playing matches with me, didn't want anything to do with me anymore." Echizen blinks, only faintly registers the taste of salt lingering in the corner of his mouth, his hands limp in Fuji's grip. His voice wavers and cracks when he speaks.

"It hurt, you know? He never looks at me anymore. Still doesn't look at me. Treats me like I'm something dirty. Told me sorry in the locker room, no one else was around, like, like I was something to be hidden, and then never talked to me again. Like—like he was sorry for himself. Not for me. Never for me."

Fuji's hands are stroking his arms, thumbs skating up his cheekbones to wipe tears away, sweeping back stray curls of hair, and he hears distant murmuring, hushing noises, comforting noises, the kind his mother made when he was sad. An arm curls around his shoulder, tugs him close. He rests his head wearily on a proffered shoulder, feels hollow, feels exhausted, doesn't even care anymore, lets the water from his eyes drip and disappear into Fuji's jersey.

"So…so I used you. I used you like you were using me. If Buchou was with someone, I thought I could—I could just stop. I wouldn't be able to like him anymore, wouldn't be allowed to like him anymore, because he would have somebody. So I set you up. I made it so there was no choice. And it worked!" Echizen croaks out a shaky laugh, coughs on a dry sob. "It worked. But it didn't…it didn't stop. It didn't go away."

Fuji hums soothingly, runs fingers through surprisingly soft hair. Echizen is small and warm by his side, and he can't take him apart anymore, has no need.

First heartbreak. He's known that one too.

And now it's Echizen's turn. Fuji, wrong again, Echizen, playing at being strong to preserve himself. Once again, they are more similar than one would think, in all the worst ways possible. He still feels flickers of resentment, still feels cheated, but he understands.

"I could have done it," Fuji says into the air. "I was able to do it, near the end, because you were there. But you were also the one that stopped me. You didn't let me do it. Didn't let me stand on my own, and try."

And that's important. Fuji's never really had anything to work towards before, nothing of real value at least. Everything that does, leaves, like Yuuta. It's the way genius can ruin things, makes you so certain but so weak.

"You didn't need to," Echizen says, rolling slightly red rimmed eyes and jabbing him in the side. "For a genius, you can be really stupid, Fuji-senpai."


End file.
